Two Halves, Different Whole
by A Starry Skye
Summary: Not everyone gets to be the hero; some are content enough to get through each passing day. And as someone who didn't expect to get a second chance at life, she had no choice but to act the part of a villain just to survive in the world she now lived in. /on hiatus/
1. Different

A/N: Okay, um. Hi. I guess this is where I go state that this is the first serious piece of writing I've ever made in my entire life. I mean, I have my roleplaying experience to ensure that my writing isn't... well, terrible... but this idea was sitting in my mind for some time now and it was begging to be written. Oh, and let it be noted that English was never my first language. So if there are any errors, grammatically or otherwise, please don't hesitate to point them all out to me. Thank you! :)

This is inspired by the many wonderful self-inserts out there, though not necessarily from this fandom alone.

* * *

 **Chapter One **

Little Rowan was, in her mother's eyes, very much unlike her twin brother.

It honestly shouldn't have surprised Serena so much. Robin might have been the ideal baby for a first-time parent like her, always quiet and always sleeping, but just because Rowan had the tendency to be more difficult to handle than her brother with her constant crying, that shouldn't mean that there was something wrong with her daughter. For the gods' sake, she was just a baby that was born several minutes after her brother. It was perfectly natural that her twins didn't share the same personality, even if they already shared _almost_ the same appearance.

And besides, some babies _did_ cry a lot. It was normal, though mildly annoying at times. Yet…

Yet…

There was no denying that there was _something_ about her little girl that bordered on unsettling. And it shamed her to think that whenever she cradled her daughter in her arms.

Plainly put, it felt wrong. Very wrong, even if she and her brother were conceived for an entirely different reason. And to think! Once, she hadn't been too keen on becoming a parent—she thought having to raise even a single child was too much trouble. Never in her entire life had she even _wanted_ to imagine herself a mother. The only reason why she allowed _him_ to lay with her, on one fateful night, was because she believed that all she did, she did for Grima. And that she didn't have a death wish. After all, to deny the leader of the Grimleal could have meant swift death.

But, apparently, all it took was her pregnancy to change everything. It changed _her_. And it bothered her so, so much that Rowan, whom by all appearances was a perfectly normal baby, was the child she tended to be more unnerved with. How was it possible to love and fear a baby at the same time?

Rowan didn't even possess the Mark of Grima, which would have indicated what kind of role she was going to play in the future. It was quiet Robin who possessed it, yet _he_ seemed to be the more normal baby between the two. She regretted to admit that she felt much more at ease with Robin than she ever would with Rowan.

Still, she wasn't about to abandon the child just because of some things that didn't sit in well with her. She would raise the girl alongside her brother, and she would ensure that their lives went relatively well.

"Serena."

Her thoughts were then interrupted as she heard the door of her chambers creak open, the voice of a man she (unfortunately) knew all too well following soon after. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw a flash of fear, of _awareness_ , on Rowan's face as she set her down on her crib. But no, she must have been hallucinating, because a pair of innocent, amber-colored eyes were all that greeted her when Serena looked at the infant again.

 _I am simply tired, that's all. Today is stressful like all other days._ Serena shook her head and turned to respectfully greet the newcomer.

"Lord Validar. Is there something you need of me?" She asked. She made sure that her eyes were downcast and her tone of voice absent of her usual confidence. It wouldn't do to gain his ire; once was enough. She still bore some of the scars up to this day.

"Only to inquire about the children. I believe it's been half a year since they were born." Validar said. He was a tall, lean, and dark-skinned man, and his dark eyes held no warmth as he regarded her and the twins resting on their large crib. She felt cold all of a sudden. "There truly is no mark on the girl?"

Serena remembered spending her first few months worrying that the purple eyes might surface somewhere on the baby's body. Each day was a challenge to complete. Thank the gods that her daughter wasn't Grima's avatar, because she wouldn't know what to do if that ended up being the case. Rowan was a strange baby, but she wouldn't dare wish her to share Robin's fate.

"No, milord. Only the boy is fortunate enough to possess the Mark of Grima." She replied. Fortunate, indeed. The word tasted like poison on her tongue.

But, she had no choice but to keep up her charade of the subservient, faithful Grimleal follower. Validar had ensured that she never stepped out of line, ever again.

"Pity."

She knew that he never really cared about the girl—not when there was Robin to fulfill his dreams. In Validar's eyes, Robin wasn't a huge disappointment like his sister. He was destined to be possessed by the Fell Dragon and bring destruction upon the world. And she... she'd been a fool once, to have thought that there was nothing about this world worth saving. An even bigger one to have believed all those honeyed words that Validar told her, just to get her to join his side.

"I'm fairly certain she'll still be a good addition to the Grimleal, though." She said, and hated herself for it. "She has your blood in her veins."

Validar focused his attention towards Rowan, approaching the crib and peering over it. For a moment, Serena could have almost sworn that the baby was _purposely_ avoiding his gaze. The girl was currently poking her sleeping brother in the cheek and seemed like she was making tremendous effort not to look anywhere else. Thankfully, little Rowan didn't cry again—she always did when Validar was around.

Really. It was just coincidence. _Coincidence_. Rowan tended to cry because of some other reason, not because she was deathly afraid of Validar and was completely aware of his chilling presence. And Plegia was just not the most ideal place to raise children, that's all. It was too grim an environment, too bleak for a child.

Yes, that was it. Should be it.

But deep down, she might have thought that that was not it.

"I think I could make good use out of her, yes," Validar finally said. "It would probably be a waste to kill the brat when she'll someday be a good weapon against those who oppose us. I suppose she'll be vital in keeping Grima's vessel in line."

Sometimes, she just couldn't believe how he could easily treat his children as nothing more than tools to achieve his goals. Something inside Serena threatened to snap, to make her want to scream at the man and insist that Robin deserved a much better life than the one Validar was preparing for him. But she pushed her anger deep down where she couldn't reach it. Because, even if she'd grown to loathe Validar, she was still frightened of him.

She'd seen how he dealt with any obstacles in his way. She'd seen the power he possessed—and she knew that he deliberately showed it to her, revealed what he was capable of if she decided to cross him. _But I'm getting close to having enough of all this, damn the consequences_.

"I… see."

"Hmph, your tone implies that you do not see, still." Validar then returned his sharp gaze towards her. Serena fought down the urge to clench her hand into a fist. And hit him with it, over and over until the skin on her knuckles split open and the face before her was broken beyond recognition. "We've already discussed this before. So stop doubting. It is a great honor to be the woman who bore the son who would signal Grima's return. You will see what I mean in the years to come."

She desperately wanted to retort that it was ridiculous how they were all worshiping a dragon that only sought to destroy the world. But when she finally looked at Validar…

The fire inside of her was instantly snuffed out. Gods, it would take her another lifetime before she could forget how Validar had cruelly butchered her family for attempting to go against him. He'd taken great care to ensure that she saw their headless remains; she hadn't attempted to undermine him ever since. But her children had given back some of the courage she'd lost over the past few months…

And maybe all hope wasn't completely lost just yet.

"As you say, milord. I'll give it some more time to sink in." It was all she could say, and she knew how hollow she'd sounded just then. But inwardly, she decided then and there that maybe there was something she could do to ensure her children's safety. It would take some planning, but… she remembered being a tactician of sorts during her years of adolescence.

"Good. Continue to raise them. I'll return to check back on their… progress, on a later date."

He then turned away and departed, leaving her glaring at the now-closed door.

 _I hate you_. _I hate you, and one day I'll be able to get out of your hair._

When Serena let out a shaky breath and looked at her children, eyes shining with angry tears, she could have sworn that Rowan was staring back at her in sympathy.

* * *

One chance, one opportunity, one night. If she screwed this up, she was never going to get out of here.

Oh, she'd waited months for this. She'd spent each day hoping for that particular window to open, so that she could jump through it and run away without looking back. And now her patience was rewarded, because the circumstances brought before her suited to her tastes.

She wasn't really sure where Validar had gone to. She wasn't sure if that was merely a trap for her, either. But this was the first time in seven months that he was truly away. She wasn't about to pass this up, and she was going to get herself and the children away from here, once and for all. She'd had enough of Validar, of this whole Grimleal business, of having to be continually manipulated by that bastard. Tonight was going to be her night, and she aimed to be several miles away from here before anyone noticed that both mother and children were gone.

 _Times like these, I'm thankful that the Grimleal stick to a schedule_. There was a monthly ritual of sorts that the group of fanatics did, late into the night. She hadn't bothered knowing what exactly they did, but she knew that they would be distracted for quite a while. It was the best opportunity she could ask for.

Her footsteps were light, quiet, as she made her way towards her children's chambers. The dark hallway ensured that no one would be able to spot her, should someone be around anyway. She softly pushed the wooden door open, careful not to make its hinges creak, and slipped into the room. She made a beeline for the large cradle. Hope bloomed inside her as she bent to pick up her sleeping babies, but then—

Serena froze.

Rowan was not in her cradle.


	2. Reality

A/N: This is far shorter than the previous, I know. But I was thinking that this was better as a chapter than an extension of the previous one (which kind of explains why this was uploaded so, so soon), because I thought establishing a bit of Rowan's character would be better in a separate chapter and all. I promise that the next ones would be much longer.

That said, thank you for taking the time to look at my story! I know it's probably not any good yet, but I'm striving to improve the more I write. Don't hesitate to review, please! Even a simple word of encouragement is enough to keep me going - though I accept criticisms too, of course.

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Rowan wasn't completely sure what had happened to her. All she could vaguely recall was the outline of the man who was apparently her "father" bending down to pick her up, and then… nothing. Heck, she couldn't even remember if she'd cried the whole time. But she probably did; there was just something about the helplessness of being stuck in a baby's body and Validar being around that sent her into hysterics. Not that it hardly mattered now, anyway, when she'd regained consciousness and found herself wrapped in a bundle of blankets. She was back to being on her cradle, but the other baby, Robin, was nowhere in sight.

Come to think of it, neither was that woman who was now her mother…

Honestly, it had been a year since she'd died and found herself reborn inside her new mother's womb (she didn't even _want_ to remember how odd an experience that had been), and yet Rowan still couldn't find herself accepting that what had happened, happened. Her new name still felt extremely foreign on her tongue—and she _still_ couldn't wrap her head around the fact that her old life was gone and her old body was now a corpse buried a hundred feet below ground.

Like, seriously. If she was fated to die, anyway, would it have been too much to ask for a better kind of death because a car crash was so incredibly typical, bordering on cliche, that it was hardly funny? How many pieces of reincarnation-related fiction had she already read that involved dying from a vehicular accident?

Rowan desperately wanted to hit something right now. But thanks to her tiny, weak arms, the most she could do was ball a hand into a fist and feel her eyes burn at the onset of tears.

Being a baby sucked, period.

For one, her undeveloped vocal chords ensured that the most she could do was make funny sounds that adults somehow found adorable. And she drooled. A lot. It was very undignified. And, even if she still miraculously retained some of her maturity from her old self, her new baby instincts tended to override it every time. She couldn't even stand up without falling back down on her butt. Even worse, she had to _act_ like a real baby, or else she'd risk being the freak of the millennium. It was bad enough that Mama Serena was starting to grow more and more scared of her because she was atrocious at acting _normal_. Rowan had tried her best not to seem _too_ aware, _too_ un-babyish, but it was a really, really difficult thing to do.

And how come this happened to her, anyway? She had absolutely no explanation for her current situation, not even one she'd be willing to suspend disbelief with. There had been no Naga to inform her that her life wasn't over and she still had this divine task to help save the world because the team of heroes under her watch just wasn't enough. Nada. When her heart finally beat its last and she could no longer endure the pain of broken bones and crushed body parts, everything just went black for a moment before she was back to being conscious in that dark, warm, but weird place.

She didn't even want to start thinking of the fact that she was now in the world of _Fire Emblem: Awakening_. That she was now the twin of Robin, the future amnesiac tactician, and was also the daughter of Validar (that fact made her shudder, every time). It just wasn't possible. It shouldn't be possible. Her brain would sooner explode before she found a perfectly logical reason for her transition from one world to another. Even her stuck-in-a-coma assumption failed to sound legit in her mind because everything that affected her five senses felt as genuine as they had in her past life.

And yet… here she was.

Rowan made a frustrated sound and rolled to her side. She could easily imagine an adult gushing over her right now if there was one around to watch her… well, maybe not her father. The powerful Grimleal leader, crassly put, scared the shit out of her.

In fact, since she couldn't sense the surprisingly comforting presence of her brother and her mother for some time now, that meant…She was now in that part of the timeline when Mama had fled Plegia with Robin in tow.

That was… not a good thing. Because that also meant—

 _I'm the one they left behind. Wonderful,_ she thought with a bit of forced sarcasm. But maybe (her new) Mama had meant to take her with her, except that she hadn't been able to because of some complications in whatever plans she'd cooked up in her mind. That could be possible. Except that there were plenty of other reasons for her current situation, too. Like, what if she was left behind because she wasn't the one with the Mark of Grima and would thus be assumed to remain relatively safe where she was?

Maybe—hopefully— that wasn't the case. Because if she went with that line of thinking, it opened up a brand new can of worms.

See, being Robin's sister meant that she was Fellblood, too. Being _Fellblood_ meant that she was a possible candidate for a Grima possession because the Fell Dragon's blood ran through her veins, as it did with Validar, and his father, his father's father, and etcetera, etcetera. That would _also_ mean that she had a bit of Grima in her—she could _become_ the Fell Dragon herself. And even though she didn't bear the mark, a probable indication that her heart wasn't strong enough to be an avatar, she wasn't sure if that made her completely unqualified. Mark or no mark, the weak grew strong overtime.

Which meant… which meant…

 _Oh my God_.

Suddenly, the urge to cry right now might not have felt so embarrassing. She was a bit of a crybaby in her past life, anyway.

That was it. No one was coming to get her. She was stuck here in Plegia and would be subject to whatever terrible things Validar had in mind. Robin, on the other hand, would be able to have a happy childhood with his mother because, yay, freedom from the crazy asshole. _She_ in turn was going to have some father-daughter bonding time that most likely equated to Validar making sure that she grew up to become one of his most dangerous assets. Robin would be living in the light, and she in the darkness. And because her previous death had been traumatizing enough, she didn't want to go through another one again.

Simply put, she had no choice but to live through whatever mess was laid before her.

What a bleak, bleak future. Rowan could hardly find any silver lining from that depressing thought.

So when the nursemaid later arrived to check up on her, the poor woman had absolutely no idea how to calm the incredibly upset baby down.


	3. Difficulties

**A/N : **Yellowclover: Ehehehe... funny how you've mentioned Aversa in that review of yours...

As for the rest of you guys, the actual notes are at the bottom. See y'all there.

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 _She heard the sounds of crunching metal and shattering glass as her world spun. And then, pain. White-hot pain that bloomed all across her body without mercy. So when everything finally stilled and she had a moment of clarity, there was no other sensation that she experienced.  
_

 _Bleeding, bruising, aching, broken, suffering. The truck that sped past that red light had really done a number on her—and on the car that it crashed into. Blood flowed freely from where skin had split open, and all she could think at that very moment was how helpless she felt as she remained stuck in the driver's seat. Tears welled up in her eyes, mixing in with the red liquid as it streaked down her face. She could no longer feel her legs. She could only feel pain, pain, and even more pain._

 _Oh, God. Why did it hurt so much? When would it stop?_

 _"H-help," she tried to shout out, but then, she stopped. A part of her knew that it was futile. Her voice was hoarse; it hurt her throat to even speak. She wasn't going to be saved, anyway. No ambulance would arrive in time. There was no hero to save her. Hurting, hurting, so much hurting._

 _She could hear the voice of a concerned civilian calling to her, navigating through the wreckage, but she knew that his efforts were going to be in vain. Nothing would detach her from where she'd ended up being stuck and crushed, and by the time he saw her, it was too late. She was broken beyond repair. There would be no changing that._

 _Don't waste your time, just let me die, please, please. Why did this happen? Why her? Was it her fault entirely? Or the driver's? Maybe she should have stayed in her college campus instead of leaving early. Should have decided to stay and read more books in the library. Should have accepted her crush's invite for a late study session. But she didn't because she was stupid. Oh, so stupid. And now here she was, with her world ending and everyone she knew and loved about to be left behind._

 _She could feel her life ebbing away as seconds passed. And that was good; she didn't want to hurt anymore._

 _So when everything finally went black—_

* * *

Rowan woke up with a gasp. She pushed her thick blanket away from her as she jolted upwards and clutched her chest, feeling her heart beat wildly against her chest. She felt cold sweat roll down her face as she struggled to steady her breathing.

She was past this. It was just a dream. _Just a dream_. No need to be so scared. This was just same kind she had on this one specific day, every year. Nothing to worry about, nothing to stress over because it's been six freaking years since it happened. She had a new life now. She'd gone and relearned everything she'd learned in her past life: learning how to walk (which was actually easy, once she was used to her new body), learning her letters (which was easy-peasy, considering that this wasn't her first dance, so to say), and... other things (which she honestly couldn't remember right now because she was busy being rattled by that goddamned dream).

And even though it wasn't as good as her previous one, the important thing here was that she was alive. And that she wasn't going to die anytime soon. She _refused_ to die anytime soon. Even though she was piss-your-pants scared of the very thought.

 _Water. I need water_. Rowan slipped out of her bed and didn't bother searching for her slippers. The stone floor was cold but not unbearable, so she didn't experience any notable discomfort as she walked out of her chambers and made her way to the kitchen. It wasn't like she was going to walk a long distance, anyway; her destination wasn't located in the opposite side of the fortress. It only took her at least ten minutes of navigating the dark and twisting hallways before she reached her destination, pushing the door open and searching the nearest cupboard for a glass.

"Lass." Rowan nearly jumped a feet high as she heard the familiar but firm voice of one of the kitchen staff. She hadn't been expecting anyone else to be awake at this hour. "I'm hoping you've realized that tonight's hardly a good night for staying up late. You remember what's in store for you later, don't you?"

The only way she would forget, frankly, was to hit her head on the wall so hard she ended up with amnesia. She wouldn't consider doing that, of course, because at her current biological age, her head was still quite frail. Still, she was hoping the plump woman didn't have to remind her.

Rowan tried not to grimace. Much. She turned to face the woman with her acquired glass in hand, unable to stop herself from looking guilty. As in, hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar levels of guilty.

"I was thirsty."

The woman stared at her for a few seconds—long enough to make Rowan want to squirm where she stood—before she sighed and outstretched an open hand. "Give it here. I'll fill that up for you."

Rowan immediately obeyed. It didn't take long before she was thirstily draining the glass of its contents. She smiled shyly at the cook after she set the thing down on the rectangular, wooden table.

"Thank you."

 _And thank you, six-year-old kiddie charm._ The woman seemed to have lost a bit of her edge after being the recipient of such a reaction. "You're very much welcome, lass. Gods, you're definitely a lot different from your father. I'd be lucky to get a simple thanks from him."

"...I am?"

Actually, yes, she knew she was by a huge margin, but she still had to act innocent. As far as everyone was concerned, she was the timid, six-year-old daughter of the Grimleal leader. Not that the adjective was far from the truth.

The woman nodded. "You make it hard to believe that you're his daughter, actually. Way I see it, you're just too good to be his kid."

"Oh."

"…You could stand to be a little more at ease, however. We're not going to eat you alive here... what's left of us, anyway." It was difficult to miss the bitterness in the cook's voice.

Gods, how could she not have realized? That would explain why Validar had been adamant on keeping her confined to her chambers. And she did notice how the walls used to shake from time to time, the ceiling seemingly threatening to collapse on top of her. For the past few years, this place had been sieged.

So that was why she'd been seeing less and less people living this fortress for the past few years. The Grimleal were being "purged" from Plegia by Ylisse's previous Exalt, and it only stopped last year when he finally died. The numbers of the Grimleal were slowly replenishing over the months since then. And... that would also explain why Validar had been unreasonably strict with her. Although, technically, the man was cruel enough that it was hard to tell the difference between what was strict and what wasn't.

Despite what had happened, though, she supposed that she'd gotten a bit close-minded about the members of the Grimleal, and she showed that she was. Could anyone blame her? All she previously had to go by about the Grimleal was the fact that they were a group of scary Grima worshippers that knew dark magic and liked wearing equally dark, hooded cloaks.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you remember what happened. It's just… it's scary to be in this place." Rowan admitted, and while she now felt incredibly guilty, a part of her hoped that she sounded like a genuine kid who wasn't all that sure that she belonged here. She was getting better at acting like one, she thought, although there were times that she was pointed out to be acting "mature" for her age.

The woman shook her head. She sighed. "That's quite alright; I know what you mean. But we're not all bad folk, like your father makes us out to be. Some are just Grimleal by name. Besides"—she gave Rowan a wry smile—"your father _did_ explicitly tell us not to harm a single hair on your head. There's also that."

Right. Of course. Hands off the secret weapon. Validar had made it known how unwanted she was, so much and so often that she was growing an immunity to it (though, the feeling was mutual), but whoever tried messing with her was going to regret it for a lifetime.

Rowan didn't know how to respond to that without making herself sound much unlike a child, though. Most of the words that swam in her mind had a bit of snark in them, too, so all she could manage in the end was a simple, "I see."

The cook shook her head. It wasn't difficult to notice her dismay. "Right. I'm not going to get much out of you unless I ask you a question. So ask I'll shall: what's keeping you up tonight?"

"Um. Bad dreams. I'll go back to bed soon, though."

Pain, hot, searing pain and the despair, the helplessness—no, stop thinking about that right now.

"Funny, that's what also had me staying here for a while now, too. Don't worry, lass. Whatever you dreamed of, you'll forget about it soon." The woman said, but not unkindly. She didn't notice how Rowan looked troubled just then. "Bad things like that, they're not meant to last forever. But if you need someone to talk to, I think I can fill that role."

This time, the smile on Rowan's face was actually genuine. "I'll remember that. Thank you. Can I… ask you a question?"

The smile was returned, brighter than the former. "Sure, lass, ask me anything. Ain't going to do you any favors bottling that inside."

"Alright, then. Do you think there's something I could do to stop having these dreams?"

The cook crossed her arms. "Well, that's quite a loaded question. I don't know about you, but a friend of mine has always told me that some dreams originate from some experiences buried deep within your mind. By that I mean, there are some things that you think don't affect you, but your mind brings them up anyway and make you realize that you're not completely over them at all. Do you understand me so far?"

That made sense, Rowan thought. "Yes. So what must I do, then?"

"Smart girl—almost _too_ smart for your age, to be honest. So, to answer your question: it probably depends on the person, but I'm guessing acceptance is the key here. Don't take my word as sage advice, but I'm thinking that when you finally accept what's bothering you, deep down, the dream stops being that bad."

"I don't really know how to do that, but I'll try."

The woman nodded at her. "If that's all, you ought to go on and go back to your chambers. I'm serious when I said you needed to get some sleep—especially when you know what's going to happen later."

"Father will be teaching me magic, yes," Rowan confirmed, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness at that one. Because… how did one even _do_ magic? She knew it wouldn't be as simple as waving her hand around and expecting something to happen. She knew that tomes would be utilized, but she doubted it was as simple as reading the words from its pages and casting her spell.

And she wouldn't dare disappoint Validar. Yes, she loathed the man with every fiber of her being, but at the same time, she'd… rather not get on his bad side. Validar was almost like a father figure to her when she did everything he asked. It wasn't difficult to come to a conclusion that her very survival depended on him. To make just one wrong move… Rowan didn't want to know how unmerciful the man could become. That icy fear would always grip her heart.

"That's right. And a healthy mind's pretty important for spell-casting. Just… don't think too much on that nightmare right now, alright? Sleep, and worry later."

"Of course. I'll do exactly what you say." Rowan said. Even though she doubted she'd get much sleep after she'd just bombarded herself with negative thoughts. _Way to go, Rowan._

She gave the woman another uneasy smile, turned on her heel, and made her way out of the kitchen. Before she could completely leave the area, though, she heard her name being called. She looked at the woman questioningly, all raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

"I just nearly forgot to tell you something, that's all. Happy birthday, Rowan. And remember: today is your day."

* * *

Today was her day.

…Right, and pigs were going to fly. At this point in her new life in Plegia, of all places, Rowan thought that being alive for another year was as good a birthday gift as it could get. There was no way she was complaining about the lack of gifts. Nope. But then again, being taught magic might be enough to be one, considering that the most magical thing she did in her past life were life hacks.

Besides, she didn't have any standards to speak of. Validar had made sure she didn't.

Rowan had been more or less expected to know her way around the fortress, so when she walked towards the courtyard where the training would take place, she was alone. She yawned as she reached her destination, feeling the heat of the morning sun on the skin exposed by her dress. Maybe she should have tried harder to fall sleep, after all. But then those books she'd filched from the nearby library were so distracting… And frightening, if an adult discovered her reading them because they'd expect a six-year-old to look at picture books and not pieces of fiction like _Wyvern Wars: Terror at High Noon_. That aforementioned book had been very entertaining, by the way.

Well, anyway, she ought to stop thinking of such things right now.

Because Validar was already waiting for her. And Rowan was ready. Sort of. At least, she was until she took notice of the other person standing beside him. That was the moment when she nearly stopped on her tracks. If she tripped, she'd never live it down.

 _Her? Really?  
_

Rowan saw a girl who was clearly in her teens, her silvery white hair shining under the sun's rays. Also, she was pretty. Really pretty, despite the faint smirk she sported on her dark-skinned face. And those eyes… even at the girl's estimated current age, Rowan could already tell how much cunning she had. She suddenly had the urge to grab a mirror, look at herself, and maybe comb her own white hair a hundred times. Probably pinch her pale cheeks, too, while she's at it, because suddenly she felt incredibly… inferior.

 _Earth to Rowan, you're just a six year old, not an insecure preteen,_ she firmly told herself as she schooled her features into that of mild curiosity, stopping before Validar and his newest "victim". She made sure to stand at a respectful distance. _Although, I have to admit, even for_ her _, that dress_ _she's wearing is still pretty modest in comparison to what I know she'll wear in the future. Even though I could still see her cleavage..._

"Good morning, Father," Rowan greeted in a tiny, quiet voice before she could end up blurting out something incredibly untoward. Like calling Validar Daddy Douche. It was incredible how her thoughts differed greatly from the words that usually left her mouth these days. She glanced at the other girl. "And you are…?"

Rowan already knew who she was, but she had a facade to maintain.

"My name is Aversa," the girl smoothly replied. Validar nodded at her.

"Yes, indeed. And as of today, she'll be a part of the family." The six-year-old could tell that he was gauging her reaction. Was he hoping that she'd consider Aversa as her competition or something?

Too bad for him, Rowan didn't know what to think of Aversa right now. Regardless, she was definitely not going to give Validar anything to be amused with. She made sure her polite smile never wavered.

"Right… Might I ask the story behind this? This is all so sudden."

"I would normally chastise you for asking too many questions, but I suppose I can humor you for being polite." Validar said. _Chastise_ , right. Rowan tried not to imagine him getting run over by a school bus from her previous world. Repeatedly. "Aversa?"

"Master had found me on the slums several days ago. At the time, I was nothing but a poor, wretch of an orphan, ignored and forgotten. To put it simply, he sought to help me when none did, and I was all too eager to repay his kindness." The smile on Aversa's face seemed grateful at a glance, but Rowan knew better. There was a certain… emptiness to her expression. Her eyes practically twinkled as she then said, "And if I'm correct, you're little Rowan, aren't you? Lord Validar has told me quite a bit about his darling little girl. Well, don't you worry, I'll be the best big sister that you'll ever have."

Several thoughts popped up on Rowan's mind the moment it dawned on her that she was going to coexist with Aversa from this day onward. For one, the silver-haired girl might be used by Validar to keep her in line—even though, frankly, Rowan thought that _Daddy_ should have no problems on that front. Her goal was just to keep existing, maybe go along with The Plot when it happened because she knew how that would end. Although… if she found a way out of here, she wasn't going to hesitate in taking it, either.

But then... her addition to Validar's ranks might have screwed up the timeline. After all, only Robin was supposed to exist in this one, and _he_ was miles and miles away from the deserts of Plegia. Having a normal life, Rowan thought bitterly.

 _But come to think of it, this makes me… what, the female version of Robin? Makes me wonder if I should've been called Reflet instead._

Rowan's existence would have most likely caused a ripple or two already, whether she liked it or not. The thought made her head want to hurt; to think, there were so many variables that might have changed already… Though, apparently, her existence did nothing to stop Aversa from being "adopted". She could almost see a Rowan-Aversa tag-team happening in the future...

…Okay, maybe she'd just think on this later. She still had a magic lesson to survive through.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'll be glad to keep you company, Aversa," Rowan responded. And with a (forced) respectful glance at Validar, she added, "When Father permits it, of course."

The smile on his face was anything _but_ of approval.

"It appears my lectures on discipline hasn't been in vain, after all. You've always been a difficult child, Rowan." Validar sneered. It took Rowan a lot of willpower not to kick him in the shin. "That said, the two of you will be spending a lot of time together under my tutelage. Aversa, just like you, is special—albeit in her own way. From this day onward, I will be seeing to it that the both of you reach your full potential."

Translation: I'm going to make sure that you two become my perfect minions for the preparation of Grima's return. Or better yet, one of you will become good enough to track Robin down. Oh, and praise be to the Fell Dragon.

"I think I'll be looking forward to this," Aversa said. When her eyes rested on Rowan, her lips curled upwards into a feline smile.

 _I'm not_. "I am _honored_ to be your student, Father."

Validar's eyes flashed at the mild sarcasm that Rowan couldn't hold back. In turn, the six-year-old steeled herself for the incoming slap—but none came. Rowan was certain that Validar was going to get back at her at some point later.

"Very well. So for today, we'll begin with dark magic. Listen well, because I expect the both of you to be able to cast the simplest of spells later on."

 _Let the fun begin_ , Rowan thought miserably.

* * *

It was like being showered in grime. She felt slimy, she felt gross, and she was feeling pretty certain that she could upchuck her breakfast if her stomach didn't stop twisting itself.

No wonder why not a lot of people used dark magic. And for that matter, no wonder why plenty of dark mages tended to be unhinged. Just attempting to manipulate the dark energy she conjured from her Flux tome was incredibly trying—and she failed, every single time. Rowan had absolutely no idea whether the difficult part of learning this particular spell was keeping her incredibly weak magic controlled or keeping herself together long enough to keep her tiny ball of dark magic stable enough to toss at anything or anyone.

Hell, at this point, she'd be lucky to get a moment of clarity so she'd be awed at the fact that magic _did_ run through her veins. It felt strange to feel tingling energies flow through her body as she directed them towards her hand.

Rowan's ball of magic dissipated when her control over her spell slipped through her fingers like water.

"Atrocious." Validar was clearly disappointed that she failed to inherit his magical talent.

Rowan blushed. In her defense, she _did_ come from a world where magic didn't exist… which might have made for a better justification for her mediocrity if she'd simply dropped into this world all willy-nilly. But no, she'd been literally born into this world, and she was just… naturally terrible at magic for some reason. She felt her cheeks heat up even more as she noticed how Aversa was having a far easier time than her. Rowan could feel the power of Aversa's Flux spell from where she stood.

Lucky Aversa for having Shadowgift.

" _That_ , Rowan, is how your spell is supposed to be like," Validar then said as he approached Rowan. She didn't particularly like the expression on his face right now.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying as hard as I can, alright? I didn't think Flux would make me feel like this." There was an edge to her voice. Not a good sign; she was supposed to be calm and collected.

"And you have cast the spell often enough to slowly develop an immunity to it," Validar countered. "Hmph, even Aversa has surpassed you already."

The expression on the aforementioned girl's face was unreadable, but there was no mistaking that she was looking at Rowan's way. Rowan felt herself flushing even more.

"Are you trying to prove that it was a mistake keeping you alive?" Her "father" then asked harshly.

"No. Of course not!"

"Then you will keep trying until I find your skill with the spell acceptable."

Rowan cast her eyes skyward, discovering that it was now an orange color. They'd been at it the whole day. "But it will be dark soon."

"Foolish girl, do you think I care? I also remember the way you've spoken to me earlier; consider this as punishment. Until I see that you have improved, you are staying here."

And that was Validar's ultimatum. Unfair, unfair, unfair. Rowan wanted to burst into tears, but the man wouldn't appreciate that sign of disgusting weakness. So all she could do was stew in her anger.

But then the worry of remaining outdoors as the sun set trumped over that particular emotion. Because Plegia was situated in a desert landscape, nighttime was going to be incredibly cold. The temperature in the desert during the night could drop below zero degrees. For Rowan to remain outdoors in her thin clothing, even when the moon was out and the stars were twinkling in the dark sky, mocking her… Gods.

 _Maybe I_ do _want to cry, after all._

But no, she couldn't. Not in front of Validar. And not in front of Aversa, either. She would get the Flux spell right, and Validar wouldn't be the death of her.

"As… as you wish." Rowan said, but her voice was barely concealing her frustration. Frustration at him, at her inability to cast the weakest of dark magic spells, at the unfairness of her new life that she'd never asked for…

"Good. I will return to check your progress later. Aversa, come."

The girl was immediately at his side. "Of course, Master."

The two of them turned away, and the last thing that burned in Rowan's mind as she watched their retreating backs was the sight of Aversa looking back at her with the faintest hints of pity. But no, she was probably hallucinating that; Aversa didn't do pity.

And now they were gone. Rowan stared frustratingly at her tome. When she noticed a rock on the floor, she bent down, picked it up, and flung it towards the nearest stone wall with all her strength.

The rock shattered as it hit the wall.

* * *

It was _hopeless_. She was starting to shiver, and goosebumps were already appearing on her skin. She going to freeze to death here and her last memories would be of her willing her Flux spell to be good enough by Validar's standards. It would be depressing to think that the last thing she'd feel was how icky she was as the dark energy coursed through her body, making her want to take a bath and scrub herself clean until her skin turned into an irritated pink.

"Still unsuccessful, I see."

Rowan kept her emotions in check as her spell dissipated yet again, looking up to find Aversa. "Are you here to gloat? Then gloat, please, and... just let me be."

Aversa chuckled. Considering the lack of malice in her eyes, Rowan suspected that the girl wasn't heavily under Validar's influence just yet. The Aversa she remembered from her past world was cruel; she wouldn't hesitate to laugh at her and, indeed, leave her alone to die from hypothermia. She might even dance on top of her corpse.

All Rowan could notice at the moment was a bit of amusement.

"Well, if you don't want any help from your _big sister_ , then fine, I'll leave you be in this cold, cold courtyard..."

"Um… you know that you don't really _have_ to be like a sister… right?" Rowan asked. But then Aversa didn't respond, merely returning from where she'd come from from. "Hey. W-wait!"

Aversa playfully glanced at her, in a way that made Rowan think that the girl was definitely the cat and she was the tiny mouse. "I see you've changed your mind. Good. It won't be for another half-hour before milord comes back. But concerning the sister part... oh, Rowan, how you wound me."

Rowan wisely decided not to respond to that last line and skipped towards the question that sprang in her mind.

"Why do you want to help me, anyway? I… I doubt Father asked you to do that."

"He didn't. But would I really want to spend each and every day with you being disgustingly miserable all the time? I wouldn't be able to focus. Let's just say that you'll _need_ a sister more than you'll want one. Or an ally, if you so vehemently refuse me to be one." She said, as if it was so incredibly obvious. "That, and I've heard Master's plan concerning you. It wouldn't do to be unprepared for that, wouldn't it?"

"...Dare I ask what plans those are?"

"Nothing to worry your little head over. Just know that he has them. More importantly, you do want to get out of here, right?"

Rowan nodded furiously. "I don't want to freeze out here!"

"Then come here and let me see what you're doing wrong. Tell me, little Rowan: what do you feel when you cast your spell?" Aversa asked.

Icky, slimy, grimy, and funnily enough, _dark_. She described it all to the older girl in detail.

"I see. And you're, what, forcing yourself not to feel that way?"

Rowan nodded again.

"Well, I believe that's what you're doing wrong. Simply put, you need to accept that the darkness will be a part of you, no matter how terrible it makes you feel. You're basically rejecting your magic to reach its full power because you're trying to stop the energy from flowing through you properly. That's the cost of using dark magic—you'll feel all sorts of nasty things. But you'll get used to it." Aversa informed her. She crossed her arms and then tapped her chin. "Although, hmm… I suppose you'll have an easier time with spells like Elwind or Fire."

Probably. But considering how she'd never tried those non-dark spells before… Rowan had absolutely no idea how those magical energies feel in her body. "I suppose. That does make sense…"

"Good, you understand then. Give it another try."

Rowan picked up her tome from where she'd thrown it out of frustration. She flipped it open, began chanting the spell written on the open tome, and as her magic manifested, she began feeling ill again.

 _Force yourself to just let the feeling wash over you and cast the damn spell, Rowan. Focus._

The tiny ball of dark energy formed atop her open palm. Rowan wanted to vomit, to faint (or maybe both) but she forced herself to let the darkness wrap around her in a tight embrace. She gritted her teeth. The ball flickered once—

But it remained stable. It didn't fade. Seeing this, Rowan pulled back her hand and shot it forward. The ball went flying and exploded as it hit the wall. Granted, it wasn't the most impressive of explosions, a far cry from Aversa's, but—

 _I did it_.

She was unable to stop her silly grin from spreading across her face. She couldn't even wipe it off her face when she turned back towards Aversa. The girl was smirking—and she might have looked a bit smug, too. "I told you."

It was weird, really weird, but at that very moment, Rowan couldn't help but think that this moment might be the start of her and Aversa's strange friendship.

* * *

 **A/N** : To be fair, the Aversa in the actual game is like... around her late twenties. She'd probably be a hell lot more different in her younger years, especially when she's not that heavily brainwashed yet. Or at least I think she wasn't just yet. So what I'm saying is, I hope I hadn't just horribly butchered her character. I have a wall ready to bang my head with if that was the case. Before I go back to doing edits, anyway.

 _(And actually, I did make a very, very minor edit. Was debating whether to go with fem!Robin's default hair color or not, and I decided... eh, I guess I'll go with white instead. Sorry~! It's been edited.)_

This has been fun to write, though, and I've actually written this one soon after the previous one was made because I already knew how I wanted this one to turn out as. That's actually why there's a fast update. And seriously, guys, I really appreciate the feedback you've given me! It's really, really encouraging. See you all soon! :D


	4. Like a Puppet on Strings

**Chapter Four**

It was kind of funny how things became more or less a blur ever since Rowan had her very first magic lesson.

Make that funny _and_ sad, when she had to take into account how there was little variety in how her days, weeks, and months had come and gone. So if anyone asked: no, there was no social life to speak of, no new friends made because Validar had made himself clear that Rowan was to focus on her training, and her training alone. Not that she had a problem with that because she did _not_ want to be a weakling. And no, there hadn't been anything particularly interesting that happened between then and now, either.

Well, fine, there actually was, but her life felt easier without remembering that. Rowan swore that she had no idea that Aversa was in the middle of seducing—that was putting it mildly—a high-ranking government official when she'd gone to the older girl's chambers so she could return the Luna tome she'd borrowed.

…Gods damn it, she remembered it again.

Um. That was awkward. Anyway. For the past decade, Rowan hadn't been doing anything else other than mastering the spells Validar taught her. When Validar decided she was old enough, he'd hired an assassin to teach her how to fight. And, thanks to those incredibly grueling lessons (which were also borderline cruel, when she remembered how she had to break her own bones just to wriggle out of the chains her teacher wrapped around her; she cried about it when she returned to her chambers), she'd ended up honing her body into a living weapon that could probably put a tear to Validar's eye if she showed him how much she'd really improved over the years.

(For the record, she hadn't.)

She'd also read a few academic books every now and then, though honestly, she'd rather stick to reading fiction. Non-fiction books made her so prone to falling asleep and drooling on the pages. Mostly because they involved learning things she already knew.

And it was weird, really. Once she'd gotten the hang of spellcasting, grown used to the way her magic flowed through her veins and accepted that it was going to be a part of her for life, she could almost think that she wouldn't make for a terrible mage—if she had to be one, that is. There was the faintest hints of a satisfied smile on Rowan's face as she watched how the tendrils of black magical energy twisted and danced atop her open palm. She was in her room at the moment, and if the velvety curtains of her window wasn't drawn open to let the sunlight in, she might not have properly seen the way she manipulated her magic like a puppeteer would his puppet. Her room was ridiculously dark when there was absolutely no source of light in it.

As the spell dissolved into the air—this time by her own will and not by her lack of control... mostly—Rowan couldn't help but feel good. Proud, even. Because that, right there, was the one of the many fruits of her efforts in keeping Validar pleased enough not to consider tossing her out of her home or taking her to the Dragon's Table as one of the Grimleal's yearly sacrifices for the Fell Dragon. She'd probably end up being the first reluctant sacrifice should that ever happen, and thank the gods that Validar hadn't considered the very idea, anyway.

That was one good thing about being a Fellblood, she supposed. Grima's avatar or not, she was still useful. Her _life_ depended on being useful. The thought made her smile grew wider, still, and it was horribly out of place for the situation she'd been on ever since she was born and left behind by her mother and brother.

…Okay, maybe she might have gotten just a _bit_ unhinged from all those Flux or Luna spells (or Nosferatu, but that required targets not named Rowan or Aversa… or Validar, _unfortunately_ ) she'd been forced to cast for years until she was almost a master at them. But damn her if she wasn't unhinged in style.

Seriously though, the second most notable thing she'd remembered as she grew up was the fact that her magical progress had been so ridiculously slow, that by the time she'd cast her first successful B rank spell, Aversa had gone on to casting A rank ones. Flawlessly. Rowan wasn't jealous, not when she'd _almost_ outshone the older girl in melee combat, but she couldn't stop a sigh from escaping her as she thought of the future Dark Flier. She laid back down on the four-poster bed with her arms cushioning the back of her head. She considered conjuring a ball of fire and tossing it up and down like a ball, but she didn't want to risk burning her entire room just yet. Fire was an element so wild that manipulating it, with or without a tome, was risky business.

Also, she didn't want to lose any more furniture.

Aversa, Aversa, Aversa. Rowan might have called her relationship with the dark-skinned girl a friendship, but in actuality, it was a very cautious one at best. Sure, Aversa had been of great help to her these past few years in learning everything that "Daddy" was teaching his "darling little girl", but considering how Aversa was unwaveringly loyal to Validar and none else, Rowan didn't trust her. Not a single bit. She wasn't naive. She wasn't stupid, either, to think that the older girl would be safe to confide her thoughts and opinions with. Yes, even if she'd been unbelievably civil with her.

Almost nice, actually, if she didn't mercilessly tease every now and then.

 _Wow, I need a real friend_. Gods, that was depressing, realizing that she'd had spent all these years without trusting anyone, maintaining a safe distance from everyone else. But… she was in enemy territory, wasn't she? Despite what that woman—the cook—had told her during her sixth birthday, Rowan still couldn't find herself completely growing relaxed around the Grimleal. Even though, technically, Rowan _was_ one herself.

Thankfully, the sixteen-year-old didn't have to mull over her thoughts for long. Because, just as she was about to ponder about how little sense it made to be a Grimleal-hating Grimleal, she heard three knocks on her door.

"If you wanted to hide from me, little Rowan, just know that there's no use. I know you're in there."

Speak of the devil. Rowan immediately shot up from her bed and, loudly exhaling, made her way to the door. She popped her head out after opening it just a crack, looked up, and raised her eyebrows at a smirking Aversa.

"I take it this isn't purely a social call?" Rowan asked, though she might as well have stated it because her tone was flat as a pancake.

Aversa _tsk_ 'ed in mock disapproval, crossing her arms. "Really, Rowan. I would think that you'd at least outgrow your penchant for staying indoors far more often than not. Look how pale you are!"

 _Haha, very funny_.

"To be fair, there isn't really much to do outside, other than to train and do the occasional shopping in the city proper." Rowan replied, ignoring the jab. As per usual. She shrugged. "Besides, the sun in this part of the continent is absolutely brutal. You might be able to work being hot and sweaty into your advantage, cunning as you are, Aversa, but I'd sooner freeze to death than melt from the heat. Anyway, if you're just here to poke fun at me again, please come back at a later time. I'm busy."

Busy lazying about, more like. There was absolutely nothing she was required to do today. For once.

...And, okay, from all the training and learning she did yesterday, she was a bit sore. Physically _and_ mentally.

But just like before, her attempts at shooing away the older girl was futile. "My dear Rowan, I'm beginning to be more and more convinced that you'd be _lost_ without me. Have you completely forgotten what today is? Or for that matter, where we're supposed to be later?"

Rowan failed to give a proper response, her mind drawing a huge, huge blank. The confusion must've really shown on her face, because Aversa frowned slightly and shook her head. Without warning, the dark-skinned girl—who was, technically, more of a woman now—proceeded to force the door open—and away from the younger girl. Rowan stumbled forward with a surprised squeak; Aversa smirked. Before the sixteen-year-old could plant her face on the floor and break her nose, however, Aversa caught her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. And then she dragged the younger girl with her.

Rowan usually wore a passive expression on her face, but at that moment, she couldn't help but shoot Aversa a dirty look. She refused to budge when she finally got her bearings straight. "Right now, I'm thinking you've gone mad from pursuing all those men you've set your eyes on."

Aversa chuckled. "That was merely pleasure mixing in with business. If you so badly wanted to join in on the fun, you could have said so." And then her smile turned absolutely feline. "But, alas, you insist on keeping out of this. You're sixteen now, hardly a child anymore, and you've yet to bed anyone. Pretty sad, if you ask me."

"And at the rate you take your "job" seriously, manipulating all those nobles and high-ranking men through their… weakness, you're lucky we have healers to make sure you never catch any sort of illness. Plegia has very little healers as it is." Rowan pointed out. "And I'm quite sure you're more than enough for all the men out there. So. Other than the fact that I'd rather not compete with you, I _know_ I'm terrible enough with seduction that I'd sooner send a man running in horror than get my legs tangled up with his in my bed." Rowan coughed and felt her ears grow warm at the thought. "Moving on. You were saying something about us being required somewhere?"

Aversa allowed the sudden shift in topic. Whew. "Why, yes, and if you hadn't been spacing out earlier—and you owe me one after I covered for you—you would have learned that we are to meet Master Validar later, after we witness the coronation of Plegia's new king. He has a mission for us. Well, that is, for _you_ , mostly."

Oh? Rowan blinked at Aversa, whose knowing dark eyes stared back at her amber ones.

…Oh. _Now_ she remembered.

"And here I thought that isn't for another day."

"You're sadly mistaken, little Rowan. Very sadly mistaken."

It had been several hours ago, after Aversa soundly beat her in a magical sparring session that was more of a battle of control than raw power, that Validar had commanded their attention. He'd gone on and on about how she and Aversa were required to attend the coronation of King Gangrel, to blend in with the crowd, observe the new king, and report their findings to him before he assigned them their next major mission. It was an easy enough task; no Plegian would be insane enough to shoo away a member of the Grimleal. Besides, the Plegian court had always cooperated with the cult for the past several hundred years. It was almost enough to say that it was the Grimleal who practically did all the decision-making in Plegia. Wouldn't want to piss off the guys who had a connection to Grima, right? The ruler of Plegia might as well be a puppet.

And by relation, she was one of the puppeteers.

Rowan sighed and ignored the pang of guilt that never went away, just slumbered when nothing triggered it. "So I am. Just give me a moment to change into something more suitable and we'll go to the city together." She gestured to nightdress that she hadn't changed out of. Lazy, indeed. "I'm very indecent right now, as you can see. Give me five minutes—I change fast."

"Are you sure you don't want any help with that?" Aversa asked teasingly. Rowan knew she didn't mean it; Aversa just wanted a reaction out of her, like usual.

And innuendos were one ones that usually worked on Rowan. Usually.

"You could help tie the lace of my boots, if you're so desperate to assist," Rowan shot back, gently taking her hand off her friend. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

She turned away and returned to her chambers, hearing Aversa's amused chuckle before she shut the door.

* * *

 _I am never leaving my room again_.

The sun was as scorching hot as she imagined it to be, despite her having dressed as lightly as public decency would allow, and she was suddenly thankful for the fact that the training grounds back home at _least_ protected her from the sweltering heat. As it was, she had difficulty listening over the vows that King Gangrel was currently making.

She wanted to melt where she stood. And at this rate, she was definitely going to. It didn't help that she could almost feel the hot breaths of the people around her, either, despite her having stayed as far away from them as possible. And her circlet! Gods, she should have opted for a simple necklace or a bangle or a bracelet instead of feeling like the piece of metal was weighing her head down because the sun was draining her energy. The hooded cloak protected her head from the harsh rays, but she felt so stuffy she'd want nothing more than to find the nearest oasis and dunk her head in the water.

From the ground below, a large distance away from the massive stone castle's grand staircase, Rowan eyed Aversa jealously. The woman had long since wormed her way into the favor of the Plegian court (as a tactician, apparently), and currently, she was casually standing by the shadows the large walls provided, watching over the coronation and eyeing the king with feline interest. The black, revealing attire she wore almost blended her into the shade.

Rowan, unfortunately, had yet to do anything that vastly improved Validar's opinion of her. All she had for show was her reports of how her training was going well, that should Validar need her, she was ready. Obviously, that wasn't enough. And maybe that was what was wrong with her, too—she lacked the initiative that her father was hoping she had.

Makes her wonder how _she_ was still kept alive at this rate, really... But no, she wasn't about to question why.

 _Okay, enough whining about the heat and other nonsense. Keep your head in the game and keep watch over… something. Whatever it is I need to observe_. She also decided to pull down her hood after she felt more beads of sweat roll down her face.

Better. Even though the air was still as dry as the sand outside the tall walls surrounding this area.

She gave the gathered crowd of people another glance, just to try keeping her mind off the blasted heat. And, just like before, there was nothing notable about them. No one seemed to stand out to her that much, and it was usually easy to spot the sort of people that weren't around these parts. Dark colors were apparently a favorite among the Plegians; it showed with the dresses, robes, or cloaks that they wore from day to day. No bright, happy colors anywhere. Hell, even the rags of the beggars revolved around the same color scheme.

And there were plenty of dark mages. Rowan was sure that most, if not all, that were scattered around the continent came from Plegia. Also, the eye patterns on everyone's clothes were a dead giveaway, a sign that they acknowledged Grima, if not outright worshiped the dragon. Even Rowan's own purple cloak had the pattern. Unfortunately.

 _The coast is clear. This is so very much like watching paint dry, but I need to keep watch._

So, just to be sure, she had her eyes scan the crowd again. She had to be meticulous; she couldn't allow herself to miss anything just because she decided not to do it the _third_ time. What would her teacher say?

…Oh. Apparently, the third time really _was_ the charm.

It was subtle, really subtle. If Rowan wasn't trained to keep her eyes sharper than knives, she wouldn't have noticed or realized how uncomfortable the woman she'd spotted was. She couldn't even stand still. And the clothes—Rowan might not have been that outgoing, but she was still aware of how Plegian fashions came and went. And that, right there, was a style that had long since gone.

Gone, as in ten years or more kind of gone.

She also noticed how the woman's mouth was set in a grim, thin line. And though Rowan couldn't make out the color of her eyes from the black hair that partially covered them, she noticed how they shifted from side to side, as if the woman was on the lookout for something. Or someone.

Was having that sort of behavior enough to be a suspicious person? Should she do something? Wait, but Validar hadn't exactly been clear about what she should be observing. Just that she should, and—

The woman, as if told by her sixth sense that she was being watched, turned her head towards Rowan.

A wave of familiarity crashed against her as amber eyes met her same-colored ones.

Rowan unconsciously took a step back, wide-eyed. Several thoughts rang in her mind and she suddenly was at a loss of what to do.

That woman. Was she…? No, it couldn't be. The hair color was wrong. She remembered it being white as snow—just like hers. But… the physical appearance seemed right. That might also explain the clothes if _she_ had stayed away from Plegia all this time. But why would that woman risk coming here, today of all days? Was it possible that…?

…No. _No_. It was wrong of Rowan to get her hopes up. All it would lead to was a painful fall if she allowed that emotion to lift her up, even just a little bit. She'd accepted that her life was going to be the way it was. _Embraced_ it. For it to suddenly show potential to change—

"Curse you Plegians and your new king! What we're about to do, we do for the previous Exalt and for Naga!"

The man who'd broken away from the crowd had been enough to make her tear her gaze away from the woman. Rowan narrowed her eyes. A man, who had turned out be _not so nondescript_ as he pulled down his hood to reveal blond hair and fair skin.

An Ylissean, judging from his accent and his appearance that bordered on stereotypical. And, apparently, so were the rest of his group, who without warning had removed their own disguises and brandished their swords or daggers.

And immediately cut down the nearest civilian with a slash on the throat. Surprised screams didn't take long to turn into horrified ones, and the crowd frantically dispersed in all directions. Rowan found herself being bumped aside repeatedly before she could even dodge the fleeing civilians. Despite that, though, she got a glimpse of the Ylisseans' eyes, noticing that they all had a crazed, bloodthirsty look upon them. She didn't know what to make of the empty smiles set on their faces as their victims died before they hit the ground. _Ylissean extremists? Really? Wow, our security is atrocious._

Very few civilians knew how to fight, and the ones that stayed behind to protect those that fled the grounds, they were cut down before their spells were cast; a downside of using magic, if their opponents were swift enough—which they were. Down to the ground they went before they could pull their swords from their scabbards and give themselves a fighting chance to get out of this alive. The eleven people who had decided to interrupt the coronation didn't move with the polish of a skilled warrior, but they were very, very close. And they had the element of surprise on their hands. Some had gone on to engage the royal guards, and one of them—

Was heading her way, having noticed that she was still there, unmoving. Gods, her assassin teacher would reprimand her for making such an elementary mistake. If she was in the middle of his lesson right now, she might have gotten a cut on the arm because when he said "no pain, no gain," he really meant it. Crazy bastard.

Rowan immediately pulled out the knives she'd hidden on her person. Daggers probably would have worked better in her situation, but she preferred her familiarity over the smaller weapons. Sure, she could have used magic, but she didn't have her tome for the more intensive, mentally draining spells. The ones she could cast without a conduit were as powerful as a flame on a matchstick.

Well. Actually, she wasn't sure how strong her spells were without a tome, but she never got her hopes up and assumed that was the case.

Besides, knives were lighter. And she could throw them from afar. And she did, with the expertise of someone who'd been doing this for quite a while now. Which she had.

It was just too bad that the man who charged towards her had a shield, and he blocked the thrown knife just in time. As Rowan nimbly leapt out of the way to avoid a shield bash, she decided that she needed to learn how to aim faster.

 _Thankfully, this idiot here is one slow bastard_ , she then thought as she narrowly avoided his follow-up attack with the sword in his other hand. A split second of the man recovering from his attack was all Rowan needed, and she dashed forward and swung her leg against the man's. _Make that slow, and weak_. He stumbled down with a yelp, and before he could get up and adjust his grip on his weapons, she swiftly disarmed him and placed herself atop his body, positioning her knife over his neck.

"Give up?" Rowan flatly asked.

"Gods damn it, lass, just get it over with." There must've been a strange expression on Rowan's face, because the man suddenly smirked. "…Oh, I see. You don't have the stones to do it."

Rowan tried to force her knife down until a thin, red line appeared on the man's neck. But she couldn't go further than that and do an encore of what one of the Ylisseans did earlier. It took all her willpower not to make her hands shake.

 _Just slide it across his neck, Rowan, and be done with it. It's not that hard. Kill or be killed, remember?  
_

"I'm thinking of giving you a second chance." It was her excuse. "You should be killed for killing those innocents, but I'm feeling particularly generous today. Besides, don't you want your Exalt to realize that we're not all rotten bastards?"

 _Pansy_.

The man considered Rowan's stoic expression for a moment, seeming as if to gauge whether she'd keep to her word or not. The man began moving his head as if to nod, but then—

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. Die, Grimleal bitch." And he shoved her away from him with enough strength that Rowan ended up as the one on her back this time. Her knife was sent flying; she didn't find the opportunity to retrieve it. Or to see where it even landed.

She wasn't able to gather her wits in time, either; stars burst from her vision as she found herself punched in the face. Hard. And it happened again and again, until she was sure that one of her rattling teeth would detach itself soon and her face would be a swollen mess, lips bleeding, and all those would be the least of her problems because she'd soon die anyway. And it was the very thought of death itself that made her relive those last few moments on her previous world. Bleeding, bruising, aching, broken, suffering.

She couldn't allow that.

Not in this lifetime.

Rowan snapped.

"Enough!" She cried out, and, mustering her strength, she threw her hands forward to let loose the most powerful Flux spell she'd ever conjured. Without a tome.

 _Now_ he was the one sent flying, and from the hole she'd made on his chest, the man was dead the moment her spell made contact. All that landed on the sand was a limp, soulless body.

Rowan staggered to her feet. And felt the blood from her split lip dripping on her chest. On her dress. _Joy, I'm never wearing this again._ She should feel bad about what happened, but right now, she felt numb. Also weak, no surprise there, and she'd be feeling the consequences of her actions later. Still, there was no denying that she was surprised at the magnitude of the spell she'd cast, though she would wonder at that later. She cast a glance at the ongoing fight on the grounds, and after noticing that there were still some Ylisseans fighting against the guards, and _winning_ , she made a beeline towards them.

Rowan was no longer in the mood to play nice and finally grasped the gravity of the situation she was in. She pulled out another knife, this time from her boot, took aim, and let it fly.

Bull's eye. Well, almost, when _that_ wasn't what she was aiming for. Still, she hadn't felt all too bothered when she watched her weapon bury itself deeply into that Ylissean woman's eye, killing her instantly. She would feel guilty later. But right now, she forced mercy out of her system. Not all Plegians were horrible people, fine, and the ones whose only sin was to be born as one didn't deserve to die. And considering how she'd gotten scared earlier about how she nearly died out of another fucking mistake, she definitely didn't want to risk another near-death scenario.

It also wouldn't be until much, much later that Rowan would realize that, when she cast her Flux spell, she didn't feel the usual sickness and nausea that came with it.

For now, she was going to help clean the mess.

* * *

"…And that's it. I initially had trouble dealing with them, but I got the job done." Rowan said as she finished her report in front of Validar. She and the rest of the people representing the Grimleal in the coronation had long since returned to the fortress they resided in. Well, that is, _some_ of the Grimleal had made this their home, particularly the ones higher up in the hierarchy; the rest were scattered around Plegia and made the temples their homes. But, indeed, this place was more or less the main base, so to say. And currently, Rowan stood in Validar's office, with Aversa predictably nearby. "That… is why you and Aversa were so adamant in getting me to come, isn't it? Because you knew there was a problem, and I was the best solution you have for it."

Validar chuckled darkly. "Yes, and no. I can see that you've smartened up, girl, but it appears that you need to improve further. Have you not noticed that Aversa alone could have easily defeated those fools single-handedly and yet she did nothing?"

Rowan had, and more than an hour ago, she hadn't had room to care about that tidbit. Yes, indeed… when she'd gone on to engage another Ylissean with her weapons, she'd caught a glimpse of the silver-haired girl simply looking at her knowingly. Had Rowan not been immediately assaulted by her swift opponent and kept busy afterward, she would have called out to her. Aversa was gone by the time Rowan took her opponent down.

The realization was clear as day on Rowan's face, and Validar added, "Daughter, today, you had been tested. Your trial by fire, so to say. Did you think for one moment that I hadn't doubted your reports on your so-called 'progress'?"

"Of course not. I simply didn't bother thinking about it." Rowan replied levelly. And honestly.

"I'd say that you have almost failed, if your battered state is of any indication. _I_ expected you to perform flawlessly." Oh, the look he directed at her was definitely condescending. "But I suppose that the problem was mine to begin with, for having decided to raise my expectations of you. You are still useful, at least."

Rowan pretended not to have heard the veiled insult. "I'm your weapon, aren't I? I have no choice _but_ to be useful." She allowed herself a shrug, because such a casual action could raise her father's ire. Not enough to make him want to kill her where she stood, but just enough to make his blood boil and give her the satisfaction being able to get him to narrow his eyes at her. Normally, she wouldn't have dared, but she was so sick of this day that she couldn't find it in her to care enough about what she ended up doing. "And if I may inquire, what's with those Ylisseans? Another part of your plan?"

"They are. My spies in Ylisse had recently returned to report about what remained of the faction that wholly supported the Exalt before Emmeryn. Oh, they weren't planning on doing anything, but I would say that it was far too tempting to manipulate those sorry fools into taking up arms and attempting to 'resume' what their precious Exalt had done more than a decade ago. So very tempting that I couldn't resist." The smile that stretched on Validar's face was a cruel one. "Besides, we still need to push our new king into a better direction, don't we? We've all known that this one had emerged from a… less noble background. What better way than to convince him further that something must be done about our neighbors whom had caused us all quite the mess a long time before, no? Foundations need to be set."

"You have a plan," was Rowan's flat reply.

"A plan in which I have spent years forming, ever since we've found our Vessel. And this is why you are required for my next mission, after you've proven that you're ready for it." Validar said. He sniffed disdainfully. "More or less, as it appears. What you have done earlier wasn't simply to show your capabilities; rather, it also served to improve the Plegian court's impression of you, who had so bravely helped defend the king against the Ylisseans."

Rowan didn't need to hear more than that to piece together the entire puzzle. "You want me to ingratiate myself within the court, enough that I end up serving a role similar to Aversa's. Gain the king's confidence. And maybe end up as his champion, while I'm at it. I suppose that means that some of the Grimleal were a part of the crowd earlier, too? The ones that pretended to be normal civilians and ran away?"

"Indeed. Their… sacrifices, will not be forgotten. What we do, we do for Grima, after all."

Which also meant that Validar had already known that some people were going to die there. And that he allowed that to happen for the sake of his plan. If Rowan hadn't gotten detached from the thought of people sacrificing themselves yearly through some Grimleal ritual, she might have gotten sick to her stomach.

"I see. And what happens when Aversa and I finally gain the king's favor?"

"That, daughter, will be the next part of the plan. Concern yourself with your current task, and once that is accomplished, you will know what will be done next." Validar said with a tone that implied that he was done humoring her.

Rowan curtsied. "As you will it. I'll be taking my leave now. And I think I shall go visit the city for the rest of the afternoon."

"Do what you want. You're dismissed."

And she left, but not after she gave Aversa—who had simply stood there and listened—a long, hard stare.

* * *

All she'd meant to do for the rest of the day was to get as far away as she could from her so-called home as possible, only coming back when she'd finally accept the weight of everything she'd end up doing for the day and was more or less emotionally stable. She just wanted to listlessly walk down the sandy city streets and just do… whatever she felt like doing. Look at wares. Explore. Maybe give coins to a beggar. Build a sandcastle, if it came to that.

But it turned out that the day wasn't done with surprises just yet. And that surprise came in the form of the woman whom Rowan had nearly forgotten in the chaos earlier.

"Good, I've found you," the woman said to her, making her stop and turn around with her eyebrows slightly raised. "I know this is sudden, but I need you to come with me right now. We need to talk. Being out in the open like this… is not safe for me. Just follow, and I'll explain everything. Once we're in a secluded place."

Rowan blinked. And narrowed her eyes. "Yes, lady, I'll just do what you say because, obviously, I'm dumb enough to fall into whatever trap you've laid out for me. I get that there's something familiar about you, but I'm not going to acknowledge that tidbit further. So if you'll excuse me, I've places to be."

And then, when Rowan moved away from her, the woman did what the sixteen-year-old wouldn't easily allow any stranger to do. Rowan felt her shoulder gripped, and trying to budge free out of the woman's hand only made it clench tighter.

"Look, I know you're going to have a hard time believing this, but I'm your mother. If that doesn't convince you to give me a chance to explain myself, I don't quite know what will. So… please, just give me a chance. Just one chance, and I'll be out of your hair afterward."

She supposed that the way the woman was pleading with her was enough to convince her. It was as genuine as it could get, even though there was a hint of reluctance. The woman was probably trying to remain strong, but failed at the last minute.

Rowan sighed. "Fine. One chance. Sorry if I seem like an ass right now; it's been a bad day. I'll come, and hopefully, you _do_ explain everything."

* * *

A/N: A combination of college work, stress, and family disagreements kind of got in the way of another swift update. But hopefully, this makes up for it. And yep, I've got a few chapters left before we get on with the game's main storyline. Hopefully I keep doing well, and that the length more than makes up for it, because there's a looot of factors than can affect the way I write. Also, let it be known that writing fights aren't my thing, so that had been a challenge to me. :v

 _Koal: God, I meant to reply to your review, but it slipped my mind by the time I wrote the previous chapter. So, yeah, I'm hoping I'm making it up to you here. Thanks for the review, and I'm glad to know I've handled Aversa okay. :D_

 _Yellowclover: Well, I know some butterfly effect stuff might happen, but it's not going to be painfully obvious for the first arc. That, and I haven't conceptualized my second arc yet, but I know that I won't want to run through the rest of the game the same way. XD And well, considering how Rowan was never meant to exist, it's it's own timeline, I suppose._

Feel free to review, follow, or fave, guys! Same routine, like usual. See y'all soon!


	5. Leap of Faith

A/N: Dialogue-heavy chapter incoming~! I've tried to make sure it's not very boring. I just needed to get this out of the way, you know?

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

After making sure that her dark hood completely shadowed her face, the woman gave Rowan a curt nod and set off towards her hideout with every expectation that the sixteen-year-old was going to closely follow from behind.

And Rowan was, mostly because she was curious enough to hear what this woman—her _mother_ , apparently—had to say for herself. Hopefully, the woman had a good reason, or else this whole thing was going to be a waste of Rowan's free time; while it had taken the then-infant months before she could accept that the woman was now her mother, she'd still felt enough affection for her that her abandonment had managed to stab Rowan deep enough in the heart. Seeing _her_ come back to her life when she had long since lost hope of being rescued…

 _You know what, I_ _'m going to stop right there before I_ really _let my emotions get the better of me._

"Look," the woman said softly, but there was no mistaking that her voice was now firmer than Rowan remembered. More confident, as she led her through the sandy streets and past the rectangular stucco houses. "I know that you're taking a leap of faith right now. There's no doubting that you see me nothing as stranger. And knowing who raised you, you have every reason not to be wary. But I speak the truth when I claim that I truly _am_ happyto see you again, happy to see how much you've grown."

"I'm… not sure how to respond to that. I suppose you could say I'm _overjoyed_ , as well." Rowan couldn't help but allow sarcasm to drip from her tone of voice.

The streets were fortunately clear of people today, no doubt frightened off by the news of the earlier attack during the coronation. The gritty stone road was clear, with the surrounding houses having their windows completely shut and their doors undoubtedly locked. And while Rowan wasn't about to dismiss the thought of someone peeking through the gaps of those curtains, the general absence of people meant that no one would be there to notice if there was anything out of the ordinary.

She wasn't sure if there would be a repeat of the coronation, though. Either way, Gangrel was the new king. Glad to know that _that_ didn't change.

After a few seconds of silence, the woman would have probably let out a sigh if she wasn't so focused on ensuring that the both of them reach their destination without any trouble. "Right. I deserve that. And for what it's worth, I'm really sorry. I'll just continue this kind of talk later, then. It won't be long before we reach my… home, anyway. We're getting close."

Rowan's nose twitched slightly as she noticed how the scenery slowly changed into something that looked more desperate. "In the slums? Really?"

Because that where they were going through now. _So that_ _'s why it's suddenly smelly,_ she thought. And filthy—Rowan could have sworn she'd smelled the scent of piss nearby, and probably a bit of excrement, too, to make things more revolting but complete. Some beggars, in their tattered clothes, asked for coins as they passed by and muttered curses when nothing was given (Rowan decided that she'll give them some of her spare cash later, wincing from having heard a particularly colorful curse word). And the houses in this part of the city… they looked dilapidated enough that she thought the weakest of winds could send them crashing down as if they were nothing but a tower of cards. The Plegian royalty had been able to build some homes for the poor a long time ago, but poor maintenance and negligence had resulted to its current state.

Suddenly, Rowan was thankful that she hadn't been cast out just yet. She was genuinely sorry for the few people living here, but at the same time, she was glad that this wasn't the kind of life she had. Although… that would have made the story known as her new life interesting. Interesting, but (probably?) extremely realistic and miserable.

Yes. Realistic. It would be mostly a bad thing since Rowan was very sure that, if she hadn't died and instead had gone to this world with her old body the same way some people in fanfiction would, she wouldn't be able to easily get by. For one, she was fairly certain the letters and language she'd learned in this new world was _not_ English. Which meant that she was an illiterate, and the lack of a common tongue ensured that communication with the people here would be hell on earth. For another, because she would lack the experience she needed to survive in this world, she'd end up raped and killed by bandits before her first day ended.

So… maybe reincarnation wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"I'm counting on the fact that the people looking for me wouldn't think of starting in this side of the city. Because they know that I used to feel nothing but extreme disdain for those I'd considered lower than me, enough that I'd rather my throat be slit open than spend one second surrounded by filth. I've changed, thankfully. I am not proud of the person I was before I had you and your brother, before I escaped with him and almost lived that kind of life myself." Her mother said, soft enough that only Rowan would hear. The teenager could almost imagine a wry smile on the woman's face as she added, "Though, I see that Plegia is still the rich kingdom I remembered it to be. But then, there's no denying that there is no rich if there is no poor."

"Right," Rowan said. She also decided that the puddle nearby was water, not piss. Extremely dirty, _dark green_ water that so happened to smell like… like that. Urk.

"I'm really sorry for the discomfort." Her mother must've heard the choking sound Rowan had just made, hence the apology. "Don't worry. We're almost there. Yes, there, the house on the last row. That's where we need to go."

Rowan nodded. They passed through several more shabby-looking houses before they finally stopped, standing in front of the beaten front door of what her mother considered as home. For now. At least it looked better than the other houses, in a way that it had less cracks—and dirt, _and_ piss marks—and stood more firmly than the rest. The woman, Serena, pushed the door open and ushered Rowan in. It was only when her mother shut the door with her back that she'd started breathing easier.

The interior, unfortunately, was just as plain as the outside. All that were inside was a bed that made Rowan want to sneeze just by looking at it, a small, round table by the window to her east, and a single chair that had _definitely_ seen better days. The stone floor looked dusty from the sand that had most likely been blown in through the broken window. Forget about plain; this place seemed more depressing than anything else.

"This place doesn't happen to be inhabited by someone else… is it?" Rowan gingerly sat herself down on the small, rickety chair. _Thank the gods I_ _'ve been keeping watch on my weight._

Her mother shook her head.

"No, the owners had long since died. They had children, but none had any intention of living here anymore (for obvious reasons) and they've moved away to better places. If they hadn't gone for Ylisstol and the surrounding towns, they might have headed north to Ferox or to another continent, like Valm." She explained. "I've learned about this house's previous inhabitants from one of the beggars who was kind—and bribed—enough to keep a secret." And then she frowned, crossing her arms. "I am not stupid to have simply asked and given nothing in return. That's just asking for me to be discovered at once."

Blink, blink. "Um. I wasn't doubting you."

Her mother realized that she'd ended up acting too defensive, and she immediately let her arms fall to her side. She let loose a loud exhale. "…Sorry. I know I need to relax."

She went on to sit at the small, dusty bed and lowered her hood.

If Rowan had any lingering doubts of the woman's identity before, right now it was immediately swept away by the aged, but still pretty face that Rowan vaguely remembered from her infancy. The dark hair that framed her face thus meant that _Mama_ had simply dyed it so that she was less recognizable. Temporary dye, from way that some parts of her hair were now showing a bit of white. It kind of made the woman look older than usual, actually.

Of course, she wasn't about to let her motherknow that she remembered her face because she'd been technically too young at the time to remember anything.

"Plegia does that to you. And Validar. So, uh, let's just move on." Rowan decided to say.

She leaned back on the chair and stretched her legs—only to immediately regret doing that as her world suddenly tilted; the apparently fragile piece of crap that was her chair had broken into splinters. She let out a surprised squeak when she fell to the floor and winced when her teeth gnashed together too hard. But before her mother could stand up and run to her side, she immediately raised a hand. There was no denying the worry in the woman's eyes as she stared at her. "I-I'm okay. Sorry. The chair decided today was a fine day to embarrass me, that's all. I'm fine. I'm fine, and the only casualty here is my dignity." She grimaced. "Unfortunately."

"You're sure." It was not a question.

"I've suffered worse."

There was an awkward pause after that.

"Right, then I'll just pretend that nothing happened." Her mother said. Just like that, the moment of awkwardness was swept under the rug. She _did_ give Rowan one last once-over as the sixteen year old stood up and rubbed her aching backside, though. "Unfortunately, that's the only chair left in this house. Gods know what happened to the rest, and I can't tell you to sit down on the ground, either—it would horribly dirty up your clothes."

"Oh, yes, dusty dresses would be the tragedy of the century," Rowan deadpanned, but there was a small smile on her face. "I can already imagine a court lady fainting from the sight of me and my sandy bottom."

There was the raising of her mother's eyebrows, alright. But then there was no reprimand that followed. Mama, Rowan decided, was getting some brownie points for that because Validar would have slapped the girl. "Hm… with lip like that, I certainly find myself curious how _Validar_ managed to tolerate you all this time. Though I _am_ glad that he did." The smile on her mother's face was an empty one. "Otherwise, we'll all be getting the chance to see if, truly, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

"More like, I get to see Mama Bear come to the rescue," Rowan said, nodding. _That_ brought a real, amused smile to the woman.

In fact, the woman's mood seemed to have improved. Rowan's, as well. Serena might have looked a lot more younger in appearance if she didn't have to look so serious ninety percent of the time. "Okay, I think we've had enough of that. Here, come sit beside me. The bed isn't as horrible as you think—so long as you don't breathe too deeply." Serena patted the empty space beside her, only to frown slightly when a small cloud of dust resulted from her action. Rowan might have taken a step back as a result.

"I… think I'll just lean against the wall here, right across you. Thanks." Rowan proceeded to do just that. She didn't want to mean any offense, but the thought of sitting close to her mother wasn't an idea she was used to. "Anyway, you were saying? How did you even recognize me as your daughter? And you're really my mother? I don't even know your name."

"It's Serena. And as for your question… that's easy. Your eyes were proof enough. No other person has such a nice shade of amber. It's a bit more… golden than mine, admittedly." Serena said. A closer inspection of her mother's eyes showed that, indeed, it was more… brownish than Rowan's. Huh, fancy that. "And, no other person shares my real hair color, apart from your brother, that is. Yes, you have a brother. A _twin_ brother, named Robin. And yes, my hair right now is dyed. On a normal day, it's white as snow, just like yours."

"Well, I bet that brother of mine is ecstatic to know his sister's doing fine here in _cheery_ Plegia." Rowan tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry, 'Father' has told me about it. So. What else? You don't sound like you're done."

"I'm not." Her mother's gaze softened as she continued, "You know, there's that strange feeling we mothers seem to have when it comes to regarding our flesh and blood. It's difficult to put into words, but it's like… when I saw you earlier, I felt a certain kind of warmth in my chest. I felt a sudden urge to run to you and take you away from here. I know that it sounds silly to you, but the moment our eyes met, I realized that you're the daughter I've been missing."

Rowan crossed her arms.. _The daughter she_ _'d been missing, she said._ Then that meant… that meant…

That meant she wasn't supposed to be left behind, after all. She was supposed to have grown up somewhere else and live the same life Robin had… minus the having-amnesia-in-the-future part. She wasn't like what she thought she was: the one easily discarded, the unimportant one. What had happened wasn't a part of her mother's plan, and she was meant to be somewhere else. Gods.

"Y'know, there wouldn't have been anyone to miss if I wasn't left behind. In fact, you have no idea how Father was all-too-happy to tell me how I was abandoned. He tells it so often that I've grown an immunity to it."

"What did he say, exactly?" The stormy look in Serena's eyes could promise eternal retribution if she didn't like what she heard.

The sixteen-year-old shrugged dismissively, an attempt to keep that particular storm at bay. Although, she _would_ to admit to herself that what Validar had told her several years ago shook her up. But now that she had the chance to air Validar's dirty laundry… "Oh, you know, that you ran away with Robin because it was obvious he was whom really Father wanted—for his nefarious reasons, no doubt. That I, Rowan, was deemed unimportant enough that you assumed I'll be safe in his hands because I'm not the one he's after. Oh, and that you're a self-centered bitch who had so easily discarded her daughter in a moment of weakness."

The hands that had been resting on Serena's lap clenched into fists. " _I will kill that man_."

Well. That definitely proved that Validar was indeed lying through his teeth. There still lay that one question, though…

"Let's, um, not get too hasty here. I hate him too, but let's not." Rowan made a placating gesture. She could almost feel the fiery rage emanating from her mother, and she found it surprising how she wasn't sweating like a horse just yet. "I'm fairly certain today is not the day to die just yet… he's strong. Really strong. Besides, I was wondering about something that I hope you had an answer to, because you're… well… my mother, apparently."

The woman took inhaled deeply, and exhaled. She would have felt calmer after that, but then she suddenly sneezed. It was not a pleasant sound.

"Bless you." Rowan shoved a hand into her pocket and pulled out a purple handkerchief, tossing it to the woman. Her mother managed to deftly catch the piece of cloth with just one hand.

Serena's face almost hinted at a sheepish one if her scowl had changed all the way. She carefully wiped her nose. "Alright. What are you concerned about?"

" _Father_ has made it obvious plenty of times that he doesn't like me. But he… tolerates me, anyway, and…" Rowan shrugged helplessly. "To put it bluntly, he hasn't killed me yet. He's often made death threats to keep me in line—and I've taken it seriously enough because I _don_ _'t_ want to be out of line—and yet my screw-ups hadn't resulted in me losing my head, anyway. Too many were the times that he was disappointed in my ability to handle things. And yet I'm still here, standing in front of you to have this sort of conversation."

"You're convincing me even further that something must be done about that horrid man. But, alright, I suppose I can answer that. I need to ask you a question first, however."

Answering a question with a question. Rowan didn't have any problems with that. "Alright. By all means."

"You mentioned that you've learned some spells, which means that you have definitely inherited the magic Validar and I have in our blood. It's potent enough that you can actually use your magic for combat, then?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

Rowan nodded and moved away from the wall. Years ago, she would have thought this was a challenge; summoning her magic when she was a child involved memorizing each step that Validar had taught her. But now… she could do it without much thought. So really, it didn't take her long before she found her well of magical energy inside her—and like usual, it was filled to the brim. Then, like sipping from a straw, she pulled away some of her magic and let it flow through her veins. When her hand finally tingled with energy, she opened her palm and let a simple Fire spell dance on top of it. The whole process took only less than a second.

"I don't know why it looks mostly blue, though. I could never make it stay orange. And actually…" She chuckled nervously before adding, "This is actually a huge risk I'm making right now. I don't like my Fire spells because they're so likely to get out of control. They already had, actually—I accidentally burned down a section of a library when I tried practicing outside my daily sessions. I could do Dark spells better, but honestly, it took me years before I even got the hang of them."

No response. Her mother was… well, she wasn't exactly happy. But she wasn't upset, either. Probably… pensive? Thoughtful? Maybe she shouldn't have done that if all it did was make the woman stare at the blue flame with an intensity that almost matched it. Rowan knew that blue fire meant that it was much, much hotter than the usual orange ones, but that couldn't have meant what she thought it meant, right? She had a terrible time learning magic, after all, even though she had two magical powerhouses as parents (not that she'd seen her mother in action yet, anyway). Aversa was a prodigy compared to her.

But then, there _was_ that magical outburst of hers earlier in the day, which led to the instant death of that Ylissean…

"Ah, I was suspecting something when you were a child. This just proves it." Serena finally said. "But, just to be sure, let me see how you dispel that."

Rowan nodded. She stared at the fireball, willed it with all her might to _disappear_ , and after several seconds of intense staring, the fireball dissipated. A wave of dizziness hit her afterward, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. _Standard side-effect of magic usage without a tome, definitely. But it sure is weird how it doesn_ _'t happen for long…_

Her mother suddenly stood up from the bed and approached her. Rowan actually had to look up just to meet her eyes; she didn't realize that her mother was much taller than her. And… more imposing, actually. She was a huge contrast to the younger, meeker Serena that Rowan knew. The woman actually _oozed_ with authority, and gods help the poor bastard who decided to go against her.

Still, having her mother standing close enough to invade her personal space was making her a wee bit uncomfortable.

"Did I do something wrong?" Rowan forced down the urge to gulp in a sudden pang of nervousness.

Her mother shook her head, and her face lost its edge the moment she realized that she was unsettling her daughter. "No. You were exemplary. But, Rowan, no mage takes that long to unsummon a conjured spell… though, there isn't usually the need for that when we both know what spells these days are used for. And, no mage takes so long to master a spell, either."

"That's me, the mediocre one," Rowan dryly said.

"I know there's no beating around the bush for this. So I'm just going to say it as plainly as possible: you, Rowan, have power. A lot of it."

That was what the sixteen-year-old was hoping _not_ to hear. She stepped back with widened eyes, only to accidentally bump her backside against the wall.

"You can't be serious."

"I am." Serena told her, more firmly this time. She gently took hold of Rowan's left hand and placed her other hand atop hers. When Rowan's eyes met her mother's, she actually found it hard to look away. "I've sensed it when you were an infant. It manifests heavily when you feel extreme emotions. In fact, maybe that's why you used to cry so often: you were constantly overwhelmed by the magic inside you. I'm not far from guessing that that's also why you have trouble controlling your spells. You have so much magical energy that you can't help but expel large amounts your skill level wouldn't be able to control. It's no doubt the reason why Validar keeps you around—why he's training you. He's exploiting that power for his personal goals."

Like training her to become a lethal weapon and serve in the Grimleal's interests. He'd been _so_ adamant in teaching her magic that the novelty of being able to cast spells had worn much faster than she'd liked. It was why he'd only gone so far as to make death threats instead of actually killing her where she stood. Why he'd taken great pains to keep her in line.

"I'll be honest here," her mother continued. "You're actually the reason why I've come to Plegia. I can see the question in your eyes; yes, I meant to take you away with me on the night I fled with Robin. But you weren't in your crib, and I was running out of time—I had to go without you. It was a difficult decision to leave you behind, but believe me when I say that I promised myself that I would come back to find you. It's why I secretly come to Plegia yearly, just so I could one day chance upon you outside your so-called home and take you away from here." She smiled a smile that showed exactly how much weight was taken off her shoulders. She patted Rowan's hand. "And it's finally happened. I found you, and I intend to make up for all the lost time we had."

"You… want to take me away from here." Rowan repeated, unable to believe what she had just heard.

Serena nodded. "Yes. Yes, I really do."

Hope bloomed within Rowan as the words finally sank in, a light at the end of her tunnel. And with that feeling came images of a happier future: of her getting to know Robin and her mother and growing to love them both as her real family, of being able to do whatever she wanted without always thinking that someone was always watching her, waiting for her to mess up… of being able to embark on the journey that Robin would take in the future, with her as his guide, as his closest friend… of being able to get revenge on Validar for keeping her sixteen years of living filled with threats, misery, and darkness.

But then…

Just as strongly as she felt the hope within her, she also felt fear. Sharp, biting, _ice cold_ fear that made her think of what could happen if she chose to take this path. If he found out that she'd defected, found out that she would know where Robin was… she would be finished. She and _mother_ would be finished. And this time, when Validar would mention killing her… he _would_. Because by then, he would have Robin in his hands, and he would have no further use of her. And if a confrontation happened in the future, if she even dared fighting back… despite all the power that Serena claimed she had, she was weak. Validar was smarter, stronger. He would make a game out of her and her family.

And she'd be too afraid to fight back, anyway. Too afraid to know what he would actually do before he decided to end her life. Too afraid to go through hell again and attempt to get out of it in one piece.

Rowan immediately took back her hand and fearfully looked towards the door as if someone would immediately push it open and discover what she had been up to.

"I-I can't come with you." She shakily said, much to her mother's surprise.

"What? Why?"

 _Because I_ _'m a coward_.

Rowan shook her head. The bright future she'd imagined shattered before her in a million pieces. "Because it's dangerous for me to be with you. And whatever mess I'm in, I… I don't want you to be in it, okay? I'm in deep shit as it is, and if Validar finds out that you're here, you're dead." She swallowed, refusing to meet her mother's wide eyes. "He'll find Robin, and then he'll finally kill me because he's gotten his hands on Grima's Vessel. _Mama_ , he wants the Fell Dragon to return, and he's willing to use me to achieve that. Use me to get to Robin. As of now, you're lucky that I haven't been brainwashed into being loyal only to him. You're lucky that I'm not committing this moment into memory so I can tell Validar all about this later. Hell, I'm sure that he's already done something to me so I can be tracked down—I won't dare underestimate him. I don't want to see you dead. I'll never live it down, knowing that it would be all my fault."

"Rowan…"

Something warm trickled down Rowan's cheek when she'd heard her mother's pained voice. It took her seconds before she realized she was crying. And she couldn't stop herself from letting out everything she'd bottled up from the past several years. "I don't want to die, okay? Because I've been through that before and _I_ _don_ _'t want it to happen again_."

 _Coward. Coward. Coward._

" _Rowan_." The steel in Serena's voice caused Rowan to quickly return her gaze up at her mother. When she did, she was suddenly pulled into an embrace. She was too stunned to respond. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that last line, and I know you'll explain that in due time, but know that no matter what happens, I won't allow you to die. Never." Her voice grew softer. Rowan sobbed against her chest. "And I understand. You're afraid. I used to be that way, too. I know how you feel." She pulled away from Rowan, letting her hands rest on the sixteen-year-old's shoulders. "And I'll help you. I'll help you grow brave, to be brave and strong enough to take that step that you're afraid to take. I know very well that I can't force you to come with me."

"No. No no no. You have to leave right now and never come back. He'll find out you're here, relieve Robin of a loving mother, and—"

"And that won't happen, because there's a reason why _I_ _'m_ chosen to give birth to a poor, innocent boy whom that bastard decided was a Vessel." She smiled slightly at that, a kind of smile that almost reminded Rowan of Aversa's. "Call me egotistic or boastful or what have you, but I _was_ the best of Validar's options to sire a baby with. I'm smart enough to cover my tracks—in fact, I already have another place in mind to sleep tonight in. Before I left home—and I won't tell you where for both our safety—I've already planned out how things are going to be like while I'm here. Different homes daily, different disguises, backgrounds. I've got this."

"I…"

"You just need to take a leap of faith, do you hear me?" Serena—no, _Mama_ , said. "Just like you did earlier. We'll both work this out. In fact, let's just say that _I_ _'ll_ take over Validar with the magical lessons. All the better if I help you fully control it, right? We'll have to face Validar someday, so it's all the better that you be prepared. We'll get out of this mess someday."

Rowan doubted her. But at the same time… there was something about the _sureness_ in her mother's face that wanted her to be convinced. A friend—that was what her mother seemed to be, too. A kind of friend that Rowan sorely needed her entire life. Maybe… maybe she _would_ take that leap. Besides…

Did she really want to stay a coward all her life?

"Alright." Rowan said softly, finally coming to a decision. She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "I trust you."

"Good." Her mother hugged her again. "I'll let you know when we can see each other again. Don't worry, you'll know it's me when the time comes and you receive a message of sorts. But right now… I'm just so happy to finally have you back."

This time, Rowan returned the embrace.

* * *

A/N: You know, as someone who's making her own story for the first time, the feedback I'm getting really makes me feel more and more encouraged to write. Yep, even if I receive criticisms. I'm saying that you guys rock, hehe. Anyway, I've tried to make the reason for Rowan's need to remain in Plegia sound reasonable. It's honestly a bitch to write because I kept wondering if it's even logical. I hope it was alright, and if it rubs you in the wrong way, feel free to offer any suggestions as to how I could word it better. :D

Also, no one has a problem with me taking my sweet time with the whole pre-game stuff, right? I have a couple more chapters in mind before we get to that. Also, I tend to get worried that I'll end up making Rowan a Mary Sue. So if she's fine so far, that's awesome. Well, anyway, on to the anon review replies because lol no PM function (obviously)~!

 _Yellowclover: 2nd gen characters, as in the future kids or (possibly) Rowan's? I haven't thought that far yet, for the latter part anyway, but I have a rough idea about how to deal with Lucina and co. Also, well, I guess you could call it vengeance. You know what, on second thought, that would make for a pretty cool skill. For now, it's a maybe. And yeah, I'm hoping to be able to use the spells from the older games I've played, mostly from the gba games. Haven't played Radiant Dawn and the others, I'm afraid._

 _Battlemistress: Thank you! I try to update as often as I can. I'd rather not make a schedule, honestly; it would just pressure me to write a chapter just to meet it. xD_

 _Pancake: Thanks for the review! I try my best to write something people could consider decent, lol._


	6. A Talk

**Chapter Six**

 _You have power. A lot of it._

Really. One would think that a week would be more than enough to drive those words out of her head. There were plenty enough distractions in a week. But, apparently, that wasn't the case. Ever since the day she'd finally seen her mother in sixteen years, parted ways with the promise that they'd meet again and resumed her daily life at the place she'd decided to dub as the Grimleal Headquarters, those two sentences echoed and echoed in her head until she was certain the only way to stop it was to hit herself with a thesaurus. A _hardbound_ thesaurus.

Hell, even this sparring session she was currently having with her teacher failed to sufficiently keep her mind off of things. The afternoon sun shining above hardly bothered her, either.

(Then again, she did choose to wear a sleeveless shirt and a pair of trousers today to not feel so stuffy.)

 _I could actually be powerful_. _Except that I_ _'m too much of a coward to find out how much._

Rowan winced as she suddenly felt her left arm flare up in an all-too-familiar pain, her thoughts immediately cut short. Teeth gritted, she lowered her head to find her arm now bleeding; the thin red line was a stark contrast against her pale skin. It was a shallow cut, hardly enough to slacken her grip on her dagger, but Naga above and Grima below, that _stung_. She looked back up to her teacher from across the field—they were in the fortress's training grounds—and she raised an eyebrow at the half-smug, half-cold smile on his face. A quick glance at his gloved hand revealed several more throwing knives—a sign that he was more than ready to throw them all at her without mercy.

And he would, because his teaching style revolved around making his student _really_ learn, even if she had to be severely injured in the process. No pain, no gain, literally.

But of course, he wasn't going to kill her. Not when he was under Validar's payroll.

"Keep your head in the game," he said. Come to think of it, Rowan never really bothered knowing his name, just recognizing him through his black cloak and his equally dark-colored attire. Not that he'd bothered calling her with her actual name, either. "Have you really learned anything from the past few years? That was embarrassing. You're lucky I decided not to nick one of your ears for that sort of inattentiveness. Consider today your lucky day."

There were times that Rowan found it hard to sympathize with Plegians when most folks she'd met so far were bordering on insanity. This was definitely one of them.

"What, it wasn't enough to make me break my right hand when I was thirteen just so I'll learn to be skilled with my non-dominant one?" Rowan coolly shot back. Her teacher's only redeeming quality was that he didn't mind the way she talked back at him. He _seemed_ like he didn't mind at all. Or, he just didn't care. Her left hand twitched at the memory though, completely recalling how she'd slammed a door against it and ended up having the then-useless hand in bandages for more than a week. She couldn't have it healed by magic—she _wasn_ _'t_ allowed to have it healed by magic. "You need to reevaluate your teaching method."

The man—who was definitely not much of a looker with his plain face, messy dark hair, and equally dark eyes—snorted. "You don't really learn shit without getting hurt, Princess. You improved tremendously the moment you decided that you don't want to visit the healers too often, haven't you? So if you want to only have that pretty little cut on your arm today, you'll dodge all my blows. And you're going to stop daydreaming and _beat_ me, if you want to get your lunch break."

Her stomach, at the most opportune moment, growled.

 _You have po_ _—_

 _Shut. Up._

"Consider it done, Teacher." Rowan nodded, and readjusted her grip on her practice daggers. She was definitely more of a knife person, but hey, weapons were weapons. Even if they were blunt ones.

And then several knives came flying towards her all at once. She'd counted… three? Four? Well, she wasn't really sure how many, exactly, but all the same, she went on to dodge them. Some knives whizzed by her and cut loose bits of hair from her braid, and those that would have struck her chest she deflected with her weapons. Her reflexes were fast enough to do that now. Thankfully. She'd barely heard the way the knives clanged on the ground as she proceeded to rush her sparring partner. She pounced.

Obviously, her teacher knew that was coming and had immediately pulled out his own _real_ daggers, easily blocking all her blows before he could find himself beaten black and blue. No surprise there; her teacher got to play with the more dangerous toys while she was always stuck with using things that were more likely to bruise than cut. But, anyway, her teacher was immediately on the move and the sixteen-year-old suddenly found her daggers stabbing at the empty air. She felt the air around her whoosh as her the assassin sped around her and—

And then came his assault, one that would have diced any other person. It was a flurry of strikes, a deadly dance of blades graceful enough to keep a spectator's eyes peeled and anticipating for more. But Rowan wasn't a spectator, and as such, she found herself on the defensive as she tried countering his attacks with her own.

And failed. And succeeded some.

 _The things I do for food._ Rowan could be just as fierce as her foe when he pushed the wrong (or right?) buttons. And after she narrowly evaded getting her leg slashed brutally, but not fatally, she found her opportunity to _really_ give it to him. She managed to see a flash of satisfaction on her teacher's face as she danced along with him in her own way, striking here, slashing there, and moving about the training grounds with footsteps light and swift as a master thief's. Sweat dripped from her chin as she continued her own offensive maneuvers, never stopping, never thinking. She was proud to say that she managed to get in a few strikes of her own while receiving minor cuts in return. This time.

And as their exchange of blows continued on, both fighter a blur on the grounds, Rowan suddenly found an opportunity that could end this battle quickly. She'd finally managed to make her teacher loosen his footing. The right side of her lip curled up into a smirk, and without pausing to wonder where she'd want to hit him, she dashed forward to strike—

"Having fun, are we?"

—Only to stop with her dagger centimeters away from his chest. Where his heart should be.

Victory effectively snatched away, she ignored her teacher's very, very smug grin as she irritably lowered her weapon and turned to face Aversa. The woman was leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed and her eyes sparkling with that always-present mischief.

"Oh," Rowan said. "It was fun until you came along and ruined it."

Aversa chuckled. "Well, tough luck, dear Rowan. You're needed right now."

"By who?"

"Come with me to find out." That was all Rowan got from her. Unsurprising. After that, Aversa stepped away from the wall and headed towards the arched doorway without looking back.

"Well, looks like I'm going," Rowan then told her teacher. Gods, she really wanted to wipe that smile off his face right now. She was also feeling pretty… disturbed at the way he just looked at Aversa. Then again, every men she'd met seemed to react that way to her friend's presence.

She merely got a nod and a shooing gesture from the bastard as his way of saying "See you later." Ass. She reigned in the urge to stick her tongue out at him, for reasons involving the fact that she wasn't eight and she was looking to keep all her ears attached to her head. She was pretty sure that the man still had a lot more knives hidden on his person.

Before Rowan could dismiss her teacher from her mind so she could go on and catch up to Aversa, however, she heard one last thing from him.

"You passed, by the way."

Rowan rolled her eyes as she entered the fortress. Typical of her teacher to shoehorn in a test when she'd been busy thinking of this as a sparring match. He liked surprises—the kind that Rowan wasn't particularly fond of.

Still, it was definitely her lucky day. Failure usually meant many, many bad things.

* * *

"A tavern. Really." Rowan's words might have denoted surprise if they weren't busy sounding so monotone.

Granted, the city's tavern in the daytime wasn't really the liveliest place in existence, what with the little amount of people coming in to eat and drink. It was a simple, plain-looking structure that looked very boring and unnoticeable, except for the hanging sign that said it was a tavern, but during the night… somehow it managed to attract all sorts of people, whether they be travelers (rare as they were) or the usual tavern-goers eager to get drunk on any alcohol they could get their hands on. And probably start a fist fight before getting thrown out by the severe-looking proprietor. Or, at least, that was Rowan's assumption because taverns weren't really her go-to place. She was more of a shut-in, remember?

Still, her point was… well, taverns were the least likely of places that she thought Aversa would visit. Unless she was out doing what constituted as "field work" for Validar, but that wasn't currently the case.

"I do come inside one from time to time, you know," Aversa said in response, feline smile in place. "It certainly isn't my most favorite place, but it does have its uses. You'll never know when you can gather some particularly delicious informations from tongues loosened by drinks."

"Such as which man cheated on which woman? And whether it was an enjoyable experience or a total letdown." Rowan proceeded to ask dryly, which resulted to a look of amusement on Aversa's face. Rowan shrugged. "Just a guess. But really, what's up with you taking me here, and what am I needed for?"

Aversa flourished a rolled up parchment from the small satchel she'd brought with her. "This."

"And that is…?"

As her response, Aversa grabbed Rowan's hand, spread it open, and placed the object atop it. The sixteen-year-old raised an eyebrow at the older girl before unfurling the parchment and proceeding to read the contents.

By the time she'd looked up from the letter and turned her gaze towards Aversa, her friend had already seated herself by the nearest table, hand resting on her chin.

"I suppose it was only a matter of time before the king summons me to his court. I'm surprised that he expects me in three days instead of having me go to the castle right this moment." Rowan said and sat down on the chair across the woman. "All is going according to plan, then. I'm also guessing this isn't his handwriting, either. It's too clean, too _cursive_ , if that was possible. Someone else wrote this for him."

"Our new king has an atrocious handwriting, to be sure," Aversa said, nodding and confirming Rowan's assumption. And then, well, she rolled her eyes. "Just one of the many things that makes him... unappealing.."

Rowan blinked and widened her eyes in mock surprise. "I must be dreaming. You, actually dislikinga man. Whatever happened to being fond of your puppets?"

"Well, dear Rowan, the ones whose strings I've already tugged at are at least saner, and much less aggravating. And less bloodthirsty, now that I've thought about it. If you'd only heard how he'd flown in a rage after the coronation last week… The blood on my clothes had been especially difficult to wash off." There was a brief look on annoyance on Aversa's face. And then her trademark smile returned. Rowan did not like the way she looked at her. At all. "But now that we're all sure that you have a chance of, say, getting inside access to the Plegian court, I won't be alone in my suffering any longer. How lucky of me, don't you think?"

"Translation: I'll end up manipulated into doing damage control whenever our Highness throws a fit." It was typical of Aversa, really. And, honestly, Rowan did wonder how Aversa—if the sixteen-year-old didn't exist—managed to spend many years in Gangrel's court without calling it quits because the man was too insane to be around with. Hmm, then again, Validar _would_ make sure that Aversa stayed where she was. For the sake of Grima, and all that. Also, mind-control. _Outstanding._

"Oh, how you've found me out."

"You were being purposely transparent." Rowan shook her head, but she couldn't help but smile at the banter between them. Aversa might be her father's puppet (ironic as that sounded), but the woman was decent company when she wasn't being difficult to be around it. She was almost like a sister, admittedly. Almost. "Okay, moving on. You could have just knocked on my door and gave the invitation to me. What's with the invite to come with you outside? To here? Is this some sort of mind game again?"

Aversa shrugged. "You seemed like you'd want to be as far as home as possible these days."

"That's it?"

"No. Actually…" And for the first time since she'd met her, Aversa actually looked… serious. "I won't play around anymore and just say this as plainly as I can: you, Rowan, seem to be very distracted these days. I'm well aware that you value the little privacy that you possess, so I've thought that this place is as good as it gets. You knoq that such distractions interfere with our tasks, yes? So I'll give you my listening ear—just for today. Let out what you've been keeping inside all this time."

Now that was something Rowan definitely didn't expect. In fact, she might have given her friend a very quick re-evaluation as she stared at her in visible surprise.

So, for the record, Rowan knew that Aversa had been brainwashed since Validar (basically) adopted her. She'd already shown signs of cruelty growing up, if her victims were any proof of that, but fortunately, Rowan was never the recipient of that. Probably because Validar needed the two to get along. And, okay, Aversa was a merciless teaser and was more likely to act difficult around Rowan because it was fun; she'd been tricked by the older girl a bunch of times throughout the years, too. But Aversa seemed to have made it certain that the sixteen-year-old didn't end up dead in a ditch, either, always leaving her in situations she could handle…

But now that she thought about it… What kind of mind-control did Validar have over Aversa?

Maybe Validar had simply laid out all the foundations for his lies and left it at that, only to do maintenance every now and then. Aversa did seem to be very much in control of herself, though most of her character had been molded by the bastard.

Maybe she'd been too quick to judge Aversa because of what she'd known from a past life. Aversa, in this… timeline(?), had someone else going through the same thing that she had. Rowan disliked doing the things she'd been made to do as she grew up, but maybe doing them all the same made Aversa think that she was indeed an ally?

Well, that complicated things.

"Well? For the record, I'm waiting." Aversa said, interrupting Rowan's thoughts.

The girl shook her head. And quickly decided what she could let out without raising any alarm. Like, say, telling Aversa that her mother had recently found her and assumed what was wrong with her. _Power, power, power, and I_ _'m filled to the brim with it._ "Sorry. Last week really bothered me, you know? You saw how I killed that man in one spell, and went on to kill the rest without remorse." Her stomach churned at the memory, and she grimaced slightly. "Well, that is, I didn't feel any until I finally had the time to stay still and _think_. They were crazy bastards like their previous Exalt, but they probably had families and such."

"I have to say, though, I never thought you had it in you. That spell… I felt its power all the way over where I'd been standing," Aversa then said, nodding. "And, oh, I suppose you _would_ feel bothered when you'd made your very first kill that day. Worry not, the feeling fades overtime. That won't be the last time you'll do such an act, after all. Isn't that what your skillsets are aimed at? Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, it's up to you to decide."

Of course Aversa would say that. She'd already had her fair share of murders; she just didn't make them so obvious. Somehow Aversa reminded her of the black widow spider.

"True. I never thought that I had that much magic in me." Rowan sighed. "Father knew though, and he wanted to capitalize on that—it's not hard to come to that conclusion after that particular realization. That's the plan you've mentioned to me before, making me useful enough in preparation for Grima's return." She let out an exhale before saying, "Oh, fine, the things I've done did bother me the most. Gods, what a sad life we all have within the confines of our so-called home."

An unreadable expression formed on Aversa's face. She leaned back on her chair, crossing her arms. As neutrally (Rowan was surprised to find out) as Aversa could, she said, "It's the only life we know, Rowan. I owe Validar my life, after all. You know full well that I'll remain loyal to him until the end. He might not be the kind of father I would have wanted, but after he took me in, he's all I've got."

 _No,_ Rowan thought. _You don_ _'t owe him anything._ She tried giving her friend a wry smile. "In our ten years of on and off friendship, you telling me that is quite the surprise. I never would have thought that you actually think of the things you do. You're not known for being nice." The smile didn't stay for long. "That said, have you ever pictured living somewhere else, somewhere far, far away from Plegia? Like, you know, growing up in a place where we get to be normal people? Because what we're having here? It's not normal at all."

"Why, have you?" Aversa's tone was a playful one, albeit not as playful as Rowan would have thought. The sixteen-year-old indulged her a small, empty smile. "Alright, I'll humor you for that one, little _sister_. So, in all honesty, I sometimes do. Just fanciful daydreams when I've nothing in need of accomplishing for the day. It must be nice, I imagine. But I'm happy enough to be where I am now."

"I'm not surprised. Considering where you've come from, a life within the walls of our home would have been the equivalent of paradise." Rowan said, and felt an urge to snort at herself for spouting all that bull. Oh, the pretending she had to do. "When I think about it, it sounds really awesome to, you know, grow up with a loving family, never needing to learn how many ways I could kill a man and make it seem like he suffered an accident. Never fearing what might happen next, what my mistakes could lead to… Heck, I wouldn't have to worry about _making_ any mistakes."

"You resent all this, then." It was not a question. "You really do."

Rowan couldn't have sounded any more bitter. She even eyed the invitation laid flat on the wooden table. "Obviously."

"You act far too differently around Master. Much more formal, stiffer, even. You feel like you're being choked all the time, aren't you?"

"I'll admit that much."

"Then you'll, perhaps, be pleased to know that I'm not a heartless witch like you'll have thought of me. I'm well aware of the feeling. I do what is asked of me, yes, but you and I are both aware of the consequences of rebelling against our betters. There are… some things that you just end up growing used to. It's quite the tragic thing, but there's no other alternatives. Either you do it, enjoy it, thrive in it… or you let it get to you and it leads to a terrible fate."

She kind of wondered if she'll end up getting to that point. When she'd stop giving a damn about everything. The thought about what she knew would happen in the future was hardly comforting, hardly giving her any hope these days. Like, she knew the Shepherds' victory over Validar would happen someday… but life was still going to be hard on her. In this story of hers, the hero wouldn't even be aware she existed. Hell, she was the villain, wasn't she? She was more likely to be slain the moment they'd seen her in action. So no, she couldn't just rely on her knowledge of the future—she shouldn't cling to that knowledge like a drowning man would a rock, period.

Though, a part of her still had hope that her mother would be able to change things…

Robin was such a lucky bastard.

(And somewhere in the other side of Ylisse, Robin sneezed.)

"We have no choice but to be the monsters everyone fears, huh?" Rowan found herself saying before she could think further on the thought. "We wouldn't want to piss off the bigger monster in the household."

A flash of amusement. "You would have been punished for saying that. But I suppose you're right. And don't you worry, that will remain between the two of us."

"I get punished enough by my own teacher. If Father gets wind of what I've called him, I won't be surprised." Rowan gestured to her bare right arm, showing angry pink lines. The healer who dealt with her injuries hadn't been much of an expert. "Won't even hold it against you if you tell on me. That's nothing new, either. But I do wonder how you tolerated me all these years. I know I've whined about a lot of things, growing up."

"We're going through almost the same thing, aren't we? There is… comfort in that. I had the choice to think only for myself, but I'll admit, there's no point for that when we're meant to be allies under Master's wing. I simply didn't see us having this kind of conversation after a decade, that's all."

"You can blame what happened last week. Though, I suppose I needed to get this all out eventually. I admit, I thought you'll just brush me off."

"You constantly moping about wouldn't mean well for the both of us." Aversa pointed out. "And we're friends, aren't we? Fellow monsters in this particular cage. Better to be civil than ending up tearing each other apart."

Rowan looked sheepish for a moment. "I don't think I possess that level of ruthlessness, still. But… yes, we're friends, odd as that sounds. I've got your back, and you've got mine, and all that. I'd rather not gain your ire, to be honest."

"Good, because you'd rather that doesn't happen. "Aversa chuckled. "But when things are put that way, we sound like we'll become a force on the battlefield eventually. As Master intended, I'm certain. So you finally confirming the amount of magical power that you possess? It's very good news." Then she _tsk_ 'ed. "But, my, things you've managed to make me say. I must be rubbing off on you a lot. Perhaps you'll consider taking my example, then?"

And just like that, the moment for the serious conversation was gone.

"That's still a no." Rowan stuck her tongue out at the woman. "But… thanks. For letting me say all of these without you judging me. Harshly, anyway. I'm glad we had this talk."

"Heh. You should look in a mirror—you _wanted_ to have this conversation. It shows." And then her usual smile was back in place. "Now that we've established what needs to be established, let's go eat, shall we? We are in a tavern, after all—I still had another reason to go here, after all."

The sixteen-year-old's stomach chose that opportunity to grumble. Rowan managed not to blush and maintain her dignity. "Right. You'll be paying, yes?"

"Oh, but of course. You'll be the one paying the tab next time, however." Aversa said.

"Deal."

A part of Rowan would always wonder if all the things Aversa said today was all part of an act, a way for Validar to find out where her loyalties lie. She'd already acknowledged in her mind the possible outcomes from the little things she'd confessed to the older girl, both positive and negative ones. Just so when they happened, it wouldn't hurt her as much.

But for that moment, Rowan was feeling better for having Aversa around.

* * *

Breathe in. Breathe out. She could do this. She _would_ do this.

It would always be a wonder how Rowan managed to spend three days without fidgeting from the thought of entering the large, stone castle that housed the man who would eventually be the Mad King of Plegia. She'd been yelled at often enough by her assassin teacher for spacing out during her lessons. Punished for it.

She just couldn't help thinking about how well she'll be received. Or how badly. She made an impression on the new king last week, sure, but maintaining a good one would be a challenge. As she stood before the grand staircase leading to the king's court, she couldn't help but imagine herself stepping into some sort of scary trap, either. The castle looked intimidating as it is, even more so with the knowledge she held about the king.

Maybe she should just turn away, pretend she received no invitation and—

No. Stop. She should not be so cowardly.

She gulped. Rowan was undoubtedly going to be hired as one of the king's personal assassins, to be sure. If not a spy to be planted in Ylisse—the man hated that land. That was what she'd been trained for, regardless of who would have ended up as Plegia's ruler. She would probably be tested, probably sent to kill off someone, but Validar would ensure she got in, anyway. There was no need to be hesitant. Even if her future pretty much described constantly murdering people who didn't deserve death.

(She wanted to cry about that, but she wasn't a crybaby… right?)

She would just have to get this done so things could finally be set in action. Maybe she'll get some comfort in thinking of her mother and when she'd come find her again. She could do this. There was no room for fear, apprehension, or any similar feelings.

 _Yeah, I_ _'m not going to like this one bit_.

Finally swallowing down her fear, Rowan went on to enter the lion's den.

* * *

A/N: Yeehaw, I finally got around to finishing this chapter. You can all blame both college and Fallout 4 for the delay. So moving on... yeah, I don't think I'll be able to get into the actual game story soon. There would probably be four chapters more? Five? I don't know. I still have some things in mind that I want established before I do so. Y'all won't mind that, do you? You've all hung around for this long, after all. I'd alternately thank you all for the understanding and apologize for delaying things more, lol.

Also, I'd have to wonder... if a character is as fictional as it gets but the whole transported-into-another-world happens, would it still be counted as a self-insert even if the character is miles and miles away from how the author is really like? I confess, I wrote this story because I've always found the genre interesting but never had any urges of doing any wish-fulfillment. I just wanted to write a story about an insert, that's all, and see where that leads me. I mean, it's a challenge to write someone that doesn't end up a Mary Sue/Gary Stu. I like challenges.

That said, time for review replies~! For anon reviewers, anyway.

 _RandomGuest: I'll try my best to follow those suggestions. I can't express enough how new I am at all these - it's not as easy as the more experienced writers make it out to be. I'm very impressed at how they could produce such good stories, actually. :D_

 _Yellowclover: Heh, well, Rowan, I believe, is trying her best to be one tough cookie. Comes with growing up in a household filled with cultists. :P And I don't exactly know what would count as in-game mechanics in my story, lol. I just write them all out the way I see them. While making sure they sound reasonable, too._

 _Guest: Thank you! Hopefully I get there soon enough. I suppose one could call this whole thing as a slow start. There's so much I still need to do to Rowan._

Remember to review and tell me what you think! :D


	7. The Task

**Chapter Seven**

"Hmph, so you're the girl who wiped the floor with those Ylissean fools? You don't look like much."

And… that was how King Gangrel summed up Rowan the moment the girl entered the throne room, stopped several feet before him, and knelt down. During that very moment, she was thankful her head was bowed too low for the son-of-a-bitch to notice the way the side of her lips were twitching. She forced herself to remain quiet before she could blurt out that a trash bin looked more impressive than His Majesty.

"You know where to place yourself, at least. Go on, rise."

Rowan immediately obeyed, and once she was at her full height of five-foot-three, her easy smile was in place. She was sure not to gaze at the king in a way that implied arrogance—well, not that she was arrogant in the first place. Maybe.

Well. Suddenly she realized it was a good decision that she decided to wear her most comfortable set of clothes: a black cloak draped over her violet tunic, tight gray pants, and her favorite set of knee-length leather boots. In her old life, it would've been called her power outfit; she felt a lot more confident with it over her skin. It wouldn't do to be shaking like a leaf in the presence of someone very unpredictable. After all, nothing in this new life of hers was "scripted" anymore. Been that way since the day she was born.

"Well, milord, I aim to please." Rowan replied. Neutrally sounded, with just a very slight hint of wryness so that she didn't seem like a total pushover. In other words, just right. She allowed herself a slightly wider smile.

It also helped that Aversa was present by His Majesty's side, she supposed. Because, honestly… despite the grandeur of the place (a refined taste for good decor was the one thing that the Plegian court didn't fail miserably at), Rowan couldn't help but feel wary, anyway. To think, lined up on the sides of the hallways were at least a dozen guards. Guards that would attack anything that threatened the king. Including her. And, sure, she suppose she could handle them if she had to end up accidentally pissing off the king, but that was a kind of scenario she'd rather not see happening. Yes, even after she'd already taken notes of a good escape route she could take if the worst happened. Still, gods, why couldn't she be at total ease like her friend?

Gangrel, slouched on his throne and looking more bored than interested, scoffed. "Least you're no stuttering idiot. Too many of them in this castle, if you ask me. Now then, Aversa here has informed me that you would make a fine asset to the court. You're the daughter of the Grimleal's leader, yes?"

"I am," Rowan said, expecting this kind of question. "And raised to do what is expected of me." _More or less_ , she added in her mind.

"Then maybe I _will_ get some good use out of you. The way you handled those Ylissean dogs was particularly _thrilling_."

"Oh, them," Rowan said in a dismissive tone, using all her willpower not to grimace at the same time. Or, for that matter, feel sick to her stomach. Those people she cut apart without a second thought, hearing their cries before they finally died… Ugh. She'd told herself again and again to get over it, but it appeared that her stomach still enjoyed flipping at the thought. She shrugged, nevertheless. _Oh, the games we all have to play_. "I had a bad start, but I like to believe that I did alright in the end. We all saw the results, sire." She smirked. "So perhaps I _will_ be a good addition to your ranks. Perhaps not. But I'm willing to do a trial run. To eliminate all doubts."

Her words came out just like she'd practiced. Rehearsing what she'd say to the king was what filled her days when she hadn't been busy worrying over this very meeting. As she subtly glanced at Aversa, she noticed the woman give her a small, small nod of approval.

"I _do_ need a loose end tied up…" Gangrel began. The gleam in his eyes wasn't reassuring. In fact, it made her think of a gigantic snake ready to bite and poison her. Maybe rip her throat off, too, if it was so inclined. "Well, if you're so willing to volunteer to do _something_ , then fine, this will do. Aversa?"

"But of course." Aversa stepped forward, and it was as if the atmosphere shifted as her dark eyes rested on her amber ones. There were no longer any hints of warmth on her face. What passed as warmth for _Aversa_ , anyway. Casual acquaintances it was, then. No more than that. "As you know, it was only recently that His Majesty took the throne—and in such a memorable way, too." She gave a low chuckle that managed to sound more dark and somehow, scarily seductive, rather than… well, anything else, really.

Gangrel shot Aversa an irritable look, urging the woman to continue. Aversa's smile curled up into a feline one, and Rowan had her familiarity with the woman to thank for when she realized that Aversa was masking her own annoyance.

"And it appears that not everyone seems to be overcome with joy during the coronation," the dark-skinned woman continued. "Suffice to say, there's this man who wasn't so agreeable about Plegia's chosen king. The only man yet to be convinced to remain on our king's good graces, anyway. He raised a fuss here in court a couple of days ago. The guards had to subdue him and escort him back to his home. But it appears that he'd gotten wind of the king's plans of… hm, suspending him temporarily. He fled Plegia before anything could be done about him." Aversa shrugged. "Basically, he needs to be dealt with before everything becomes one ugly, grimy mess on our hands. And I do hate getting my delicate hands dirty."

"And with the threat of Valm on the horizon, we can't waste resources purging every existing traitors to the throne. Even though it _would_ be fun to wipe out all those idiots." Gangrel finished with a scowl.

Valm. He was referring to the continent that used to be referred to as Valentia, renamed into its current one in the honor of Alm, the first king of the united empire. Valm used to be split into different nations due to conflict, but recently—Rowan didn't know how long ago—Walhart had risen into power and managed to reunite the continent in his campaign against Grima's return. Gods know how much of the continent that Walhart had already conquered in this present time. But if what she remembered was still correct, the Conqueror's rule wasn't exactly… filled with compassion.

She got Gangrel's point, though. Plegia was still a proud, independent nation, and getting absorbed into Valm's fold? Not a good thing.

"I see." Rowan said. "Where shall I begin looking then?"

"In Ylisstol, the capital of the Halidom of Ylisse. The poor fool thought he could escape without leaving any tracks behind," answered Aversa. The glint in her eyes relayed the rest of her message: there were tracks intentionally left alone for Rowan to follow.

Rowan nearly choked on her saliva, the words she meant to say ("It shall be done.") dying in her mouth.

Ylisse? What? _Really_? She was going to Ylisse _where Chrom and the rest of the Shepherds_ reside? Naga above and Grima below. She didn't see this coming at all. All she'd been expecting was a simple quest of fetching someone's head _within_ Plegia. Maybe some poor bastard who had been ballsy enough to cheat Gangrel. She didn't think she'd be taking a single step beyond the gates, to the place she'd never set foot into before.

The only silver lining here was that Ylisse wouldn't be as wary of Plegia as she'd remembered. Not yet, when Gangrel had just risen to the throne and still hadn't fully succumbed in his hate for Ylisse and her people. Not to mention, doing everything he could to incite war between the two countries; Aversa was undoubtedly still working on that part of Validar's grand plan. Still, Rowan was hoping that she wouldn't have to be the subject of many nasty stares that spelled out _Grimleal_. Because, y'know, all Plegians were members of the Grimleal. Her accent was already a neon sign pointing to her Plegian blood.

 _I_ _'m not going to like this, am I?_

Before a shocked " _What?_ " could escape her, though, she curled her lips into an eager, almost manic grin. "Very well, then. I'm up for the task. Do I have a deadline?"

"You have a month to track down this man. I'd prefer less, but I _know_ how to be generous when I _feel_ like it. Especially when you are so recommended to be a part of the court. Aversa will give you further details on the matter." Gangrel said. Rowan didn't like the mad grin on his face as leaned forward, adding, "And I expect you to return with his head. As for the rest of his body, throw it in the river. Or dump it on the streets. I don't care. Just don't think of running off. You won't appreciate what I'll have in mind for traitors to the throne, darling."

"I wouldn't dream of doing that, your Highness."

Rowan tried not to gulp nervously as she bowed, moving to follow Aversa as she was later led away from the throne room for a more complete briefing.

* * *

A/N: Short and sweet, just the way I've intended. The next chapter is promised to be much longer; I just want to get this out of the way. If things go on as I've originally planned, we've got... say, four or five chapters before the actual game plot? It's a rough estimate. Since no one seems to have any problems with my pacing so far, onwards I go. To Ylisse~!

New title and an edited summary, by the way. I don't know, this seems to make more sense. Hope nobody's too alienated. :D

And please, feel free to tell me what you hope to see next chapter! Or, for that matter, _who_ you hope to see. I could do with some more fluffing. Review or not, it's fine by me. I just appreciate all of you for taking a chance with my story. So, thanks!

 _Anon: Thanks for the review! I'm trying to take it easy, yep!_

 _Battle Mistress: Good to see you again, haha. Yeah, I thought it was a pretty good idea at the time, and basically went 'to hell with it, it's staying.' XD_


	8. Musings and Departures

**Chapter Eight**

Surprisingly, the most difficult part was leaving.

Rowan was all packed and ready to go, her backpack filled with essentials ranging from food and drinks to tomes and fighting knives. Her hair was fixed into a single long braid behind her back; loose hair was difficult to deal with in times of combat. And her attire, it was that of a common traveler's with the standard, soon-to-be-worn-out leather boots and her long-sleeved dress (because, hey, she _did_ like dresses, just that her constant training required something with more mobility. And less frills). The circlet on her forehead was more of a preference, though, rather than an addition to her disguise.

She even had a background story crafted well enough not to raise any questions.

 _Yeah right,_ she reconsidered with a roll of her eyes. _There_ _'s always going to be that one person asking why a "starry-eyed" Plegian traveler wanted to stop by Ylisstol to see the sights_.

Yet the moment she stepped out of her home and took the winding and sandy path leading to the city proper and then eventually the gates, she almost, _almost_ wanted to turn around and abandon her mission. It nearly took everything in her not to do so and to keep placing one foot in front of the other. Well. That, and there was still the idea of public execution for traitors to the crown because Gangrel wasn't right in the head and he'd be sure to turn _that_ kind of sceneinto a work of art. So she really, really, _really_ couldn't turn back, even if she wasn't all too fond of the thought of killing some poor bastard who got on the king's bad side.

She was just feeling nervous about going outside of Plegia for the first time. That's all. Because despite everything, Plegia _had_ been her home all her life. And she was about to leave it.

That was something Rowan considered as she finally reached the city that stood in all its stony, sandy glory.

Yes, indeed. Plegia was her home because she didn't know any other. Even if that sounded oddly depressing, it was a fact. So when she was greeted by the sight of the cream-colored buildings built of stone blocks that were classified as either homes, shops, or taverns? She felt nothing but familiarity. They never struck her as peculiar-looking, or for that matter, never made her think that anything could eat her alive the longer she stayed here. Heck, not even once had she felt like a stranger whenever she walked down the streets, smiling at the occasional child or two running past her as they played tag in the middle of a lazy afternoon. It was weird, but sometimes it struck her how she felt like she actually belonged, even if her mind liked to remind her of how different she truly was from the rest of the Plegians.

And, alright, she had to admit Plegia wasn't such a bad place indeed. That is, if she knew what aspects to focus on.

Like, say, the bakery. And the people working in it.

"Thank you for stopping by, milady. Perhaps we'll see you again soon!"

"You can count on it so long as you guys keep up the good work," Rowan replied with a grin as she left the building with a several loaves of bread added to her own inventory.

True, she wasn't about to say that everything was all sunshine and rainbows in Plegia, what with the whole Grimleal thing, the melancholy atmosphere, and the way this country was run by its sovereign. But damn her if she didn't try her hardest in finding something to like about her place of birth. It was like trying to find a gemstone in a pile of garbage, but it was there.

For one, the people here—well, the people she'd passed through as she continually walked, anyway—were an equal blend of chillingly civil and (whatever passed as) warm and friendly. Some gave her simple nods of acknowledgment when she looked their way; some gave her polite smiles that actually made her brightly smile back. There was the occasionally shady person who looked at her like she was a particularly delicious piece of meat, but a flash of her concealed blades were enough to keep them at bay.

 _Sometimes I need a reminder that, officially, everyone_ _'s a Grimleal. However, not_ everyone _has to be categorized as evil and possibly unstable. I don_ _'t need to be wary of every person I come across_. Nothing but a slap of reality, she guessed. It was hard not to feel biased or prejudiced when she'd been raised in a household filled to the brim with the kind of people she wouldn't have associated with in her past life.

It just sucked that Plegia had to be run by easily-manipulated kings, that's all. The country ended up with a very questionable reputation among the different nations out there because of the way things had been run. Too bad, Plegia was such a rich kingdom, too; it might have suffered from a significant population decrease from the previous Exalt's purge more than a decade ago, denting the workforce as a result, but it recovered and became better than ever. Well, economically, anyway. It just suffered from bad rulers… or the lack of any policy separating the religion from the state.

Maybe something (or _someone_ ) would change that. She certainly hoped so.

Though, she dared not go further from the knowledge that Validar would be the one to take the throne next, should everything go on as she predicted. Dared not to think what _that_ meant for her as his _daughter_. She was, after all, more or less the female version of Robin, though thankfully not Grima's chosen. Maybe. Still, sometimes it just really sucked to possess any future knowledge of this world. Life would have been so much better for her if she didn't know what would happen next.

"Out on an errand, huh?" One of the guards said as Rowan reached the city gates. The men stationed there already knew her by appearance. And, apparently, by reputation. She did wipe out several men with just her knives more than a week ago, even if she received her fair share of injuries in exchange.

"Pretty much," Rowan said, presenting her travel documents for inspection. "It's in our best interests to keep the king pleased, after all."

"True, that. It's a good thing you didn't see the last man who thought otherwise. I think I haven't had any decent sleep after that." He handed the papers back, permitting Rowan to pass through.

"You're just being a wuss. I slept just fine," the other guard said. A teasing grin was plastered on his face.

"That's because you always sleep like the dead."

Rowan flashed the two men an amused expression before turning away and finally stepping out into the open. Predictably, she saw a sea of sand before her. The lack of trees—of shade—kind of put a damper into things, actually. But she couldn't do anything about that. She did live in a desert, after all. She could only sigh and recheck her water supply, suddenly remembering how easily she could get dehydrated from exposure to the harsh sun. After ensuring that she would have enough until she reached the next town, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and began her journey to Ylisse.

Today and the next couple of days were going to be long, long days. And mercilessly hot.

Until she was out of the desert landscape, anyway.

* * *

Of course, what was a long journey without one single bandit attack? Gods forbid she crossed past the Plegian border and be miles within Ylisse's without a group of men wishing to take her stuff.

Rowan, feeling much, much alone more than ever, did her best to stoically stare down the four men that was blocking her way towards the direction that should lead her to Ylisstol. From the way their smirks widened though, it appeared that she hadn't exactly been doing a good job of acting intimidating. Too bad; she didn't see a way out of here other than going through them. The straightforward path she'd taken provided no ways for losing them during a pursuit.

At least she was walking over grass instead of sand now, the afternoon sun overhead not as harsh as before. There was a reason why moving about in the desert was a difficult task.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, girlie. Hand over everything you've got, and we'll let you be on your merry way." One of the men said. He was the grossest of them all, with a body odor that reminded her of corpses, a dirt-smeared face with beady eyes, and crooked, yellow teeth. Ugh.

"If ya let us have a little fun, too, anyway," another added, eying Rowan from head to toe. There was no mistaking the lust in his eyes.

 _I hate my life_. Rowan was not amused. She, obviously, wasn't going to take that sort of crap from them. It was bad enough that she received _that_ on a daily basis from her father, of all people. So, getting the same treatment from people she didn't even know? There was going to be hell to pay.

"Reign it in, lover," Rowan ended up telling him with a roll of her eyes, typical sarcasm in play. She placed a hand on her waist, at the same time laying her fingers on the tome strapped on her belt. "I haven't even answered yes or no."

"Well, sweetheart, you're going to have to decide soon, else you'll find yourself at receiving end of my blade. Nobody's gonna miss a Plegian girl around these parts anyway." Ugly said.

Rowan scoffed, pulling out her Fire tome. A fight it was, then. If she managed to do a preemptive strike and down at least two of them, she'll have the upper hand already. And if she managed to control her magic this time, this would be cake. Even better: there were no trees around to burst into flames and cause a forest fire. "How about… no? I'm not about to believe I have a choice in this. So cut the crap and let's just get this over with."

Before she could begin summoning a ball of flame, though, she heard a yell from behind the group of men.

"Hey!"

It was a white-haired boy, probably around fifteen or sixteen years old. She wasn't really a good guesser when it came to age. There was no mistaking the boyish look on his fair-skinned face, though, and he wore fingerless gloves, a plain gray shirt and a pair of brown trousers. She figured him for a villager from some town nearby. Kind of admirable, the way he slipped past the men without getting them to react with their axes and swords. He must've surprised them enough to keep them in place.

"There you are. I've been waiting for you, you know!" the boy cheerily said. He was grinning, but there was no mistaking the message behind the way his own amber eyes stared at her questioning ones: _Play along_.

And so she did. Rowan wasn't an idiot. Nor was she dense.

"Oh, oops. I didn't mean to make you guys worry." Rowan replied with a smack of her forehead, hoping to every existing deity out there that her sheepish tone was convincing enough.

"That's fine! But I don't think you remembered how things are 'round these parts. You've been gone for so long that you don't even sound like us Ylissean folks anymore." He looked knowingly at the group of bandits. "Which is why there's a _group_ of the militia waiting for you, too, _nearby_."

That made the bandits unsure about charging at the two teenagers now. Uneasy glances were exchanged all around.

"They're worried you'll encounter trouble, you see," the boy continued, obviously fighting off a grin that threatened to ruin his bluff. His merry eyes practically twinkled as he kept her gaze on Rowan's. "Sooo, they're more than ready to _come to your aid_ when you need it. I just went ahead, is all, just to make sure. In fact…" Cheerful eyes then became mischievous as he made his voice louder, making sure that his next words were more directed towards the bandits. "They should be here in a minute or two. Because it's been a while since I left them and they said they'll come running if I'm not back soon."

Rowan didn't know whether to admire the boy's extremely convincing tone or to worry about how he was _successfully_ bluffing against a group of bloodthirsty (and apparently, sexually deprived) men and would receive the appropriate punishment for it. But there was just… _something_ about the way he'd worded everything that immediately made the bandits back off. She wondered just how much of a reputation the boy's home village had in this part of Ylisse to have scared off a bunch of bandits.

"Ugh, guess she's not worth it, boys. Let's get outta here before we end up like the last bunch 'fore us." Ugly said, and it didn't take long before they dispersed and went back to wherever they were hiding.

"And now," the boy then said in a lower, softer tone. "You walk with me for a fair bit. The village I live in does have an active group that patrols within this vicinity, but I don't trust those men to be running away as fast as they could right now, despite appearances."

Rowan nodded without a word, and the boy smiled at her encouragingly before taking the lead. They must've been walking for at least fifteen minutes before he finally sighed in relief and slowed down his previously fast pace. The coast was clear.

"So," Rowan began, taking that as her cue of finally being able to talk freely. "Does your village have that much of a reputation that they could make a group of bandits climb over each other just to get away?"

"Yes." He said with a wide grin. "In fact, it's my mother who leads the group. I help along sometimes. Things took a change ever since she and I moved there. The bandits who tried attacking our village got the beating of their lives."

"Must've been quite the sight."

"Oh, I'll have you know that it was! I'd ended up cheering the entire night."

"I can imagine." Rowan snorted. "Thanks, by the way. Even though, well… I was pretty sure I could handle them, anyway."

"I doubt that," he replied bluntly, but there was no intent to offend behind his tone. "It's a four-on-one battle. You have a chance of turning the fight to your favor by surprising them with the strongest spell you could cast, but you've had as good a chance to screw things up, too. Besides, even if you get a good start on the fight, you'll wear out faster than them in the long run. Just one wrong move, and you're done for." He mimed a knife slashing across his neck with his finger.

She almost claimed that she was trained to deal with larger numbers, but considering that she still had a disguise to maintain, she decided to instead say, "I suppose so."

"You're extremely lucky I was out on an errand, you know! And it's a damn good thing that I know how to think quickly on my feet." He chuckled. "Or for that matter, to say the right things to get out of a bind. You should've seen the look on your face when you confronted those men."

"I'm hoping it translated to 'sick and tired of this crap' rather than 'scared shitless'."

"More like a mix of the two. Though I'd describe it far less crassly." He said cheerily. "So, anyway, what brings you to Ylisse? I don't believe I've seen a lot of Plegians running around these parts."

"Just visiting," she said with an air of casualness. "I've an uncle in Ylisstol I haven't seen for a long time. My father back home misses him, and he wants me to convince him to come back. I'd say he shouldn't bother since Uncle's happy where he's at, but Father wants me to at least _try_."

It kind of scared her how the lie easily escaped her lips. Like it was _true_ and the fact that her target needed to be assassinated was a bald-faced lie. The boy didn't even regard her suspiciously, merely nodding and taking her word for it.

"Oh…" He drawled. "I see. Then I hope that bandit encounter hasn't ruined your impression of Ylisse! I can't say anything about Plegia since I've never been there, but believe me when I say that you'll love it here."

Rowan smiled at him. "I'll take your word for it."

The boy smiled back, and for some reason, Rowan was immediately struck with how _familiar_ he looked. Vaguely similar, even. She immediately shook off the feeling, believing it to be just her imagination. Because it couldn't be anything else. It just couldn't. When the boy looked ahead and noticed the large collection of houses beyond and below the hills he and Rowan traversed, a look of fondness appeared on his features.

"Well, that's my home, right over there." He pointed to them. "Have you any intentions of staying for a bit? I could make sure your visit is as pleasant as possible."

Rowan shook her head apologetically. "I really need to get to Ylisstol as soon as possible. And since I've just resupplied from the previous village I've stayed the night at, I'm good to go. Thanks for the offer, though."

"That's perfectly alright. This will have to be my stop, then. Ylisstol should be to the… west-northwest of here. It's three or four days of travel, not too far if you ask me. I've traveled longer than that on occasion." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "But you probably have a map, anyway, if you managed to get this far." He then nodded, still looking bright as the afternoon sun above. "Oh, yeah. I know I should've asked this way, way earlier, but what's your name? Who knows, I might see you again. And it wouldn't do for me to just think of you as 'that Plegian girl'."

"Too many people have already referred to me as such. You may want to get in line." Rowan dryly said.

The boy was unruffled. "So I shall. Still, I'd very much want to at least call you with something better."

"Fair enough. My name is—" Rowan almost said her real name aloud, but she caught herself at the last minute and said, "Reflet. It's Reflet."

He stretched out a hand, which Rowan grabbed with hers and shook. Whereas the boy's movements was lively, hers was more… floppy.

"Nice to meet you, then, Reflet." He said, smiling so brightly his eyes had closed. "I'm Robin."

He said his name was Robin.

Funny, that was the name of her twin, too. Robin, Robin, Robin.

Robin with the same hair color as her, as well as the eyes, though his would assuredly have that spark of intelligence in them…

 _Oh._

 _Robin_ didn't notice the way Rowan's jaw went slack. "With that settled, I guess this is a goodbye for now! And travel safely, you hear? Well, heh, more safely, what with that bandit encounter earlier and all. Sorry that had to happen."

"Oh, yeah… definitely. And that's quite alright. See ya." Rowan said, but on the inside, she was shrieking and flailing as she realized she could no longer deny who the person was, exactly, in front of could barely keep a solid smile on her face as she watched the boy run off, stopping several seconds later and turning to give her a happy wave. The one she returned might have been mistaken for an awkward one, but it was far from that. Her heart beat loudly against her chest the entire time.

 _I just met my twin brother and I gave him a false name and he didn_ _'t recognize me anyway. If Validar finds out… No. This one secret I'll take to the grave._

Suffice to say, it took Rowan several days before she could put that encounter behind her.

* * *

She reached Ylisstol without any further incident, but maybe that was because she'd started taking precautions wherever she went. Her tome never left her arms anymore, clutched against her chest like a teddy bear, and she… well, she might have jumped at every sounds of movement she heard nearby, whether they be flocks of birds flying away from the trees or rabbits jumping out of the bush it had hidden itself in. She almost shot a fireball at a poor, innocent squirrel. She also might have ended up sleeping with one eye open—figuratively speaking—whenever she had to camp out at night. Her only source of comfort was the sight of the millions of twinkling stars in the night sky above, watching over her as her eyes slowly slid shut and she slipped into the world of dreams.

It was pretty sad how she couldn't find it in herself to admire how much foliage she saw each day, to note how large a contrast it was to the sandy landscape she'd grown accustomed to seeing. It would've been nice to literally stop and smell the flowers, to admire their colors and note how they stood out against the grass and the numerous trees surrounding them. Most of her old memories from her past life had been discarded as insignificant in this current one, but she was fairly certain that she hadn't even _seen_ this much green in her previous world.

Bandits definitely went up in her own shit list, that's for sure.

At least she didn't have to worry about that anymore. Because here she stood, presenting once again her papers to the guards by Ylisstol's grand gates. She made sure to appear as innocent as possible whenever the man inspecting her documents eyed her, as if he was making sure she was indeed the person stated in the papers presented. In fact, the smile on her face actually hurt to maintain. _Even though the wariness is perfectly understandable_ , she thought as the man finally reached the last page. _Plegia doesn_ _'t have a good public image with the Grima worship and all that. Gotta remember that_.

"Alright, you're free to enter the city," the guard finally said, returning her papers. His icy exterior finally melted when he'd concluded that Rowan wasn't going to be trouble. "Sorry about that. You know how it is between Ylisse and Plegia. It's hard to tell who's got good intentions these days—I've seen my fair share of Plegians taking revenge for what happened more than a decade ago."

"I completely understand. I'll be on my best behavior, don't worry," she assured him. "I'm just here to visit a relative." _And leave with his head and his signet ring because a job_ _'s a job and I'd like to live for many more years to come, thanks_.

"I hope so. I'd rather not end up killing someone who doesn't deserve it," he said. "Go on in. And I hope you have a pleasant stay."

Rowan made sure to flash the man another sweet smile before she readjusted her backpack's straps and went through the gates, searching for the nearest inn.

* * *

So, Ylisstol wasn't going to be as confusing as she'd thought it would be. There were plenty of twists and turns around the many buildings, but they were nothing she couldn't memorize once she'd sketched her own personal map on her notebook. She'd probably get a good view if she managed to scale the mountain where Ylisstol's castle stood.

"Which leads to today's plan, after I get a bit of rest." Rowan murmured, plopping herself down on the fluffy bed of her rented room. One hundred and fifty Gold for a two weeks' stay seemed like a reasonable price, and it wasn't as if she was going broke anytime soon, anyway. The only way she'd lose all her money was through getting robbed or through a day of impulse buying every pretty, frilly dress she could find in the city. Or jewelry.

She shook her head before she got any ideas of mixing pleasure and business while she was out memorizing every detail of Ylisstol. She also bopped her forehead for good measure, glad that the door was locked shut and no one would see her acting silly.

She had a mission, damn it, and that was to locate a traitor. Not to luxuriously spend this brief moment of freedom in a foreign city. She didn't know where to start looking, but she knew how the man looked like because Aversa gave her a sketch of him during her briefing. Speaking of which, she grabbed her pack and pulled out the folded piece of paper, memorizing every detail of his features. She was certain that he wouldn't be using the same name, though, and she couldn't just ask anyone for his wherabouts without garnering suspicion.

Hmm, then again, every city has its dark side. If she found out where Ylisstol's shadiest people spent their time during the night… maybe a tavern run by proprietors of questionable character… she could go there, bribe someone, and ask her questions. Threaten him or her if she had to. It was probably going to be a harrowing experience, considering she'd never done this before, but she had to do it. Everyone had to dirty their hands sometimes.

But first, she was going to memorize every street, every corner of this town, at the same time remaining as inconspicuous as ever. It would make her hunt easier. Much easier, especially when she got to the point of learning her target's daily schedule, finding an opening and isolating him with everyone else none the wiser. And then she'll slit his throat, dump the body somewhere… probably a well… and she'd come back home with his head. She'll become Gangrel's thug and return to the monotony of a Grimleal's daily life. Easy peasy.

…

Not really. But it felt nice to think it would be that simple.

Rowan sighed. Why couldn't life be that simple?

 _I could just fake my death and never come back. If Mama managed to hide Robin for this long, maybe I could do the same,_ she thought. Because, honestly, despite some silver linings, her life was crappy. And here she was, miles and miles away from Plegia with no one aware of what she could end up doing. She was lying in the softest bed in existence and recovering all her lost energy. No one was waiting for her to get up and do something. She was, basically, free for the time being with no one to boss her around or scare her into doing every single command. The thought of just abandoning her responsibilities was sweet and very, very tempting.

…But she couldn't. She realized she couldn't, other than the fact that it wasn't going to be easy, abandoning her home like that. Or faking deaths for that matter, because a false death would need a body to work—and there was only one of her. It was also going to be a challenge, making a new life for herself in a land she didn't grow up in. They'd all ask who she was, where she's from, who her parents were, etc., etc.. Also, the paperwork involved would be too bothersome.

Nothing was ever that simple. One could run, could hide, but that person would eventually be found. The moment she made a connection here, _any_ connection, they'd end up caught in the crossfire and she'd have to forever live with the guilt of causing their deaths. Wouldn't _that_ be something.

And besides, Aversa told her that she'll be fetching her by end of her quest's deadline. "Nothing personal," the dark-skinned woman had said. "His Majesty just wants to make sure you do what you're asked."

Not like she could stand spending a good fraction of her life in hiding, anyway. She'd noticed the tiredness in her mother's eyes when they last met. The ill-concealed stress.

"So I guess I have no choice but to do this." Rowan said aloud, as if the very action would help her come to terms with her decision better. She turned to her side, felt the bed creak as she did so, snuggled on her pillow, and shut her eyes. She'd forever wonder how her life would turn out to be like if she managed to start all over again, but for now… she wanted to rest. To forget everything for a moment. Take refuge in her dreams.

After all, she was going to be very busy later.

* * *

Ylisstol's citizens, Rowan decided as she pretended to wander the streets aimlessly, was by leagues far cheerier than those of Plegia.

There was always going to be that one rude asshole (like that man who yelled at her for accidentally nudging him) who could ruin her day, but otherwise? Everyone seemed to be so much happier with their lives, even if some were barely scraping through life. The atmosphere here felt lighter as compared to that of Plegia's capital city, with so many more people here more inclined to smile and greet a total stranger. Neighbors greeted each other happily as they passed by each other on the street. No one constantly looked over their shoulders to see if anyone was following them. Shopkeepers constantly attempted to attract customers with their wares and didn't get rude responses for it. Heck, she was fairly certain she'd heard drunken singing from a nearby tavern. The taverns back at home were more… muted.

Sure, Ylisstol would probably be a completely different city deep in the night and in places one normally didn't venture into. But gods, the difference between this foreign city and the city she knew was _staggering_.

 _Head in the game, Rowan,_ she mentally scolded herself before she was distracted by the sights and the sounds. _You still need to take note of every nook and cranny._

The thought sobered her up a fair bit, and she returned to playing the part of a tourist. She would be jumping across rooftops instead if there weren't so many people.

 _So, this path leads to here. This armory would make for a good landmark since it_ _'s standing where the streets split into three directions. Also, that's a pretty memorable signboard they got there. Ehhh, anyway, if I take this path, I'll end up at… Well, okay, I should've noticed that I'll be led into the city square. What a pretty fountain… and oh, how cute, some pigeons are perched at the edge. Wait. No. Focus. Anyway. Now, where does this path lead? Probably to the gate or to the district where the poorer citizens reside—_

Rowan wasn't really sure whether she bumped into someone or someone bumped into her. All she knew was that she was hit—or she hit—something fairly solid, saw her world tilt as she stumbled back and fell to the ground, and winced as her backside took the brunt of her fall. No amount of training prepared her for that kind of surprise. And it was, frankly, embarrassing.

"I'd really appreciate a warning next time. Or better yet, watch where you're going, you dummy." Rowan couldn't help but say. Her glare was in place when she looked up to the offender—

Only to blanch as her eyes met those of someone she _definitely_ would recognize from anywhere. Even worse, the person wasn't alone.

The words ' _Oh, shit_ _'_ wouldn't even begin to describe the predicament she'd landed herself in.

* * *

A/N: It's a little scary how I managed to get this all written pretty quickly. Then again, I'm on vacation, so helloooo, free time! I quite enjoyed writing out Robin in this chapter—and don'tcha worry, you'll see more of pre-storyline Robin soon. I'm still on the fence about whether he gets amnesia or not, actually. Well, anyway, thus concludes the chapter. Let me know what you guys think, like usual! Seriously, all that support is what keeps me going.

 _Battle Mistress: Struck speechless, are we~? Haha, thanks like always!_


	9. And So It Begins

A/N: Had to do some minor edits~ Note to self: proofread harder.

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Four Days Prior  


Robin was many things. He was quick-witted. Smart. Good-natured. Perhaps a bit of a prankster at times, but all in all a person with a good heart.

But gullible? No, he was not.

The Plegian girl with snow white hair (like his) and amber eyes (also like his) had told him that her intentions in Ylisstol involved visiting a relative. It sounded innocent enough. And he might have believed it, had he not noticed the conflict in her eyes as she fed him the lie. How _guilt_ practically emanated from her as she finished, the expression so fleeting that he almost missed it. The girl, Reflet (was that even her real name?) had purposely lied to him for reasons unknown, had come and gone with him wondering why she resembled him and his mother so much.

Maybe he should have asked her. She'd reacted strangely when she learned his name. Probably didn't notice the way her hands clenched and unclenched either. She was, no doubt, trying to hold back whatever sort of reaction threatened to overwhelm her then.

…On second thought, maybe it was for the best that he didn't, because Robin thought himself a nice person—and a nice person knew not to press someone when they're unwilling to share something.

Not that the thought helped him focus on his book better, anyway. Here he was, all curled up on the carpeted floor of the living room and well past several hours since the strange encounter, and he just couldn't seem to sit still. For the first time since he'd learned to appreciate the existence of books, he couldn't think straight. Couldn't even appreciate the not-too-cold-nor-too-warm temperature for the day. And boy, oh boy, did it want to drive him crazy.

 _Reflet, Reflet, Reflet. Just who are you, really?_

Fortunately for him, he needn't have mulled over his thoughts for long. Because the wooden door suddenly creaked open, pushed forward by a white-haired woman in her late thirties. The ends of her hair still had traces of black from the dye she'd used more than a week ago, and there was no mistaking that faded, purple robe from anywhere. And so, Robin didn't startle even just one bit. In fact, he offered his mother a cheery wave and his trademark boyish smile as a greeting.. Mom returned a weary smile of her own.

"Are your new recruits giving you a headache?" Robin decided to ask, plopping down his book beside him. Reading was a lost cause. "Because, really, Mom, I'm starting to think you've bitten off more than you can chew."

She sat down on the couch across him. A small, wooden table separated the two of them. "Nonsense. If we're going to keep the village safe from those idiots who call themselves bandits, I'm more than willing to work my ass off. Although…" She considered for a moment and _tsk_ 'ed. "Admittedly, that one boy was really testing my patience."

"If stuff like that happens often, maybe I should consider a future career choice that isn't labeled as 'Tactician'." Robin grinned. "I do need to care for the well-being of my sanity."

Mom snorted. "Too bad, boy. You're much too deep into the field as it is. I'm afraid that you'll have to keep up or get left behind. The latter is not an option, by the way."

Robin merely chuckled in response.

"So," she then said, changing the topic. "How did my darling son's day go? Carefully, I hope."

 _Reflet, Reflet, Reflet_.

"As per usual, yeah. My 'marked' hand's all gloved up right here. But will you believe me if I said that I met someone who could've been the spitting image of me if she were a guy?" Robin asked, and immediately felt a pang of regret on his chest it as Mom started regarding him more attentively. Her previously relaxed posture grew tense, and he almost looked away from her intense eyes. He felt like he was being stared down by an interrogator while he was behind bars in a dungeon cell.

"Describe her."

"Well, she was…" He stood up and let his hand hover several inches away from the top of his head. "This tall. Hair white as the Feroxi snow, with eyes that shines gold in the light." He tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms. "Just like mine, actually. Pale-skinned, too. And really pretty. Oh, and she was all too willing to wipe the floor with those four bandits that accosted her. Had this I'm-sick-of-this-crap look about her, too, and she didn't even care one whit that she was at a numerical disadvantage. If I hadn't been around, she might have ended up a red smear on the grass."

He most definitely didn't like the way his mother was looking at him now. _Alarmed_ might seem too generous an expression. "What else?" She urged.

"She had a Plegian accent. Wouldn't stop looking over her shoulder the whole time I walked with her." Robin finished. "She has quite the tongue about her, and… that's about it."

At first, there was a silence so profound that Robin was certain he was hearing the blood flowing in his eardrums. It almost made him think that the sea was nearby instead of hundreds of thousands of miles away. But when his words finally registered in his parent's mind—

"…Shit." Mom had never really cussed for no reason.

Not good. Robin's cheery demeanor threatened to shatter.

"Are you… okay?"

"I was before I learned this." She stood up and began pacing back and forth, head bowed. "Gods, I thought _she_ was in Plegia. I was going to meet her soon, so I wrote her a message. It was one that should be taken care of by a friend of mine within the Grimleal's ranks. Most importantly, it was supposed to be an easy task. To find out that Rowan's been out of town for a while now… No, there are so many ways this could go wrong…"

"Er, Mom? I can't hear you from all that murmuring. And who's Rowan?"

Mom didn't even realize that she'd paused, lowered her eyes and fixated them on the table, as if the piece of furniture knew all the answers. When she finally looked at Robin, she was actually… afraid. His heart ached at the expression that should have no right appearing on his normally tough parent's face. In an uncharacteristically small voice, she asked, "Robin, you react well to surprises, right?"

"Well, I always have." Robin nodded almost too eagerly. Maybe if he kept up the upbeat attitude, his mother would calm down. Smile again. "Well," he quickly reconsidered and tapped his chin. "Except for that one time when that horse suddenly neighed from behind me. Gave me the fright of my life, that."

"Then…" Mom took a deep breath, a hand on her chest. She exhaled, took another steadying breath, and finally said, "What if I told you that you've just met your twin sister?"

The last piece of the puzzle snapped into place.

Robin blinked. And blinked some more. "Oh. That would… explain a lot, actually."

What an understatement.

 _Rowan. Not Reflet, then_.

"And what if I told you that we need to get to Ylisstol at once because suddenly, she and I need to talk about a new problem on our hands?"

At this, Robin stepped towards the troubled woman and gave her a reassuring hug. Poor Mom, too stunned to even return the embrace. When he stepped back, he smiled at her.

"Then I'll start packing."

* * *

Present Day

 _Mission abort. MISSION ABORT._

 _I gotta say, though_ _… he_ is _far more handsome in person than I_ _'d imagined—_

 _OH GODS. SHUT UP, BRAIN_.

Rowan, for the first time in her entire life, was in an absolute loss on what she should do. Right in front of her were the two people whom she'd told herself over and over _and over_ to avoid at all costs, and she ended up doing the exact opposite by becoming too absorbed on plotting out her map that she ended up letting down her guard. Outstanding. And fine, she still wasn't sure who was the offender in this situation, but her point still stood tall and proud. She was already resolved in making sure she remained a nobody to Chrom so she didn't ruin his future path to glory, dramatic as that sounded…

And then this crap happened.

She knew she'd committed enough crimes to warrant the ire of one or two deities out there in the multiverse, but _come on_. It was so unfair that this had to happen to her.

"Are you… okay?" Chrom, in all his blue-haired glory, asked with a half-troubled, half-apologetic expression. "You, er, kind of spaced out there. And you look a bit red in the face."

Damn it.

Rowan immediately shook her head, ignored his proffered hand, and stood up on her own. She idly wondered if there was a rock she could hide underneath from so she could stay there for a decade or three.

"I'm fine." She said with a light tone. "If my face is red, blame the sun."

"Good," a brown-haired knight in light blue armor said from behind the prince. His mouth was set in a thin line, his glare sharper than her knives—a glare that was directed at her. "Because, milady, I believe it is _you_ who needs to apologize in this situation."

A faint memory from her old life reminded Rowan how endearing she'd found Frederick the Wary with the way he treated the Exalted family with so much care he was more like a mother hen than a knight. A big ol' teddy bear on the inside. But right now… Right now, the man was immediately her least favorite person for the day. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him, newfound irritation fighting for dominion against awkwardness. So far, it was neither winning nor losing.

"Peace, Frederick." Chrom said, turning his head slightly to the knight. Gods, such a nice smile—wait, no, _no_. She meant to thought that _he_ was such a _nice_ guy. Also naive at times, but yes, nice. "I think it's safe to say that we're both at fault here."

"Perhaps." Frederick was unconvinced. "But milord, I would think that you would be treated as your station deserves. And, you might, perhaps, exercise caution. You know how things are between Ylisse and Plegia these days."

Frederick, Rowan had to remind herself as best as she could, was simply stating facts and rarely means personal offense. And yet, that didn't make her feel any better.

Whatever effect meeting the prince had on her, it was temporarily forgotten as she shot back at Frederick, "Hey, not all of us have _sinister_ as a description. And for your information, I immediately regretted saying that the moment I noticed the _Brand of the Exalt_ on the good prince's forearm. I'm not an ignorant. So on my part, I'm sorry this whole thing had to happen. I'd appreciate not being lumped together by the other Plegians who have a not-so-good impression of Ylisse, thanks."

The stare both Rowan and Frederick exchanged were so cold, it was a wonder that snow hadn't fallen yet. Or maybe heated was the better word here? So heated that water should be boiling.

"Okay... So before we all end up starting off on the wrong foot, I'd like to say that I'm sorry, too," Chrom said before Frederick could open his mouth. Said smile turned awkward as he rubbed the back of his head and added, "I'd been in such a hurry, I didn't notice you until the last minute. I hope I didn't just ruin your day. Gods, I wouldn't know what to do then."

The white-haired girl shut her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled. Upon opening them, she felt somewhat better.

"Keep that olive branch extended and I'll do the same, I suppose?" Rowan offered. Let it go and just… smile, she decided, even though her aching backside would like to contradict her. No need to end up making a lasting impression on both the prince and his stalwart knight. Last she recalled, a bad conflict could be remembered for the years to come. She just needed to _calm down_ , and deal with this situation with so much finesse that even Aversa would be proud.

Chrom chuckled. Okay, never mind the finesse thing. The way the prince reacted may or may not be a good sign and that she ought to get out of here _as soon as possible_. "I can do that. I'm Chrom, by the way. You already knew that I'm, well, a prince, so I'm glad we don't need to have that established even further. The wary knight behind me is Frederick. He only means well. I hope you understand."

"Any knight worth their salt would act the same, so eh, it's fine. I suppose. It's not like I'm plotting the demise of every single citizen here." Rowan said with a casual air. She looked meaningfully at the knight before returning her gaze to the prince. "I mean it. I'm only here for a visit. I'm Ro—Reflet." Gods, that was a close call. "And I perfectly understand sir Frederick's need to, erm, ensure the safety of not only his charge, but also the city's. I just don't really like being the subject of prejudice, is all." She shrugged. "So whatever offenses I've made, I really, really apologize."

Now, all she had to do was to politely inquire what's up, say something idly in return, and take her leave. That kind of conversation seemed natural-flowing enough in her head that no one would realize she wished to be evasive. She then asked, "So… um, what exactly are you running from?"

"Oh! Well…" Chrom suddenly seemed to be extremely hesitant about giving away an answer. Rowan imagined palming her face for asking the wrong damn question. "You see, I—"

"Milord, if I may, I still sincerely believe that it wasn't necessary for you to run off like that. Especially when you were in the presence of those court ladies," Frederick calmly interjected. And he basically answered Rowan's queries. "I highly suggest that we return at once and you apologize for the poor lady you've suddenly left behind."

"That's easy for you to say, Frederick. It was _suffocating_ in there. Emm will surely understand," Chrom said with a hint of a grimace. "And I'm pretty sure the good duchess's daughter by now should be looking for another noble to… er, pour her affections on. I think I'll give her a few more minutes before I return."

 _Ah, court life_ , Rowan couldn't help but think then, fighting off the sudden urge to snicker. It wasn't difficult to imagine the prince being chased by a horde of noblewomen pining for his attention.

"That sounds…" she searched for the right word. She failed miserably and ended up with a sympathetic-sounding, "…Ick."

The way Chrom gravely nodded at her spoke volumes about his sentiments about the ladies in the court. She had absolutely no idea whether to feel sorry for him or for the noblewomen whose worst problem was going to be one hugely disinterested prince. Or their suddenly concerned parents because there went their chance at playing the game of politics better. That said, Chrom just presented her an out that she desperately needed.

"Um. Glad to know you agree. Anyway, I shan't keep you." Rowan decided to say and gestured to her surroundings. "I still need to get used to the city and all—I have a deep-seated fear of getting lost in such a huge city, you see—and find out where this relative of mine lives." She thought she sounded innocent enough. "Because that's actually what a Plegian like me is doing in Ylisse, of all place. Heh. And no, please, I can handle this by myself. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I could spare some time helping you out," Chrom said. Gods, no wonder so many women ended up being infatuated with the man. He's like a puppy. "I doubt anyone else in the castle's going to look for me."

Rowan shook her head and pretended not to notice the instant relief on Frederick's face from behind the prince. "I think it's best you follow the good knight's advice and be on your merry way to the castle. I think you've burnt enough time already, Prince."

Chrom didn't look all too happy at the thought of all those noblewomen pining for his attention. But with the combined forces of Rowan's dismissal and Frederick's stare, he gave in and settled with, "Alright, I'll let you go, too. Gods, I'm really, really sorry for bumping into you like that."

"It's fine. The fault is mine. Now if you'll excuse me…" Rowan opted for a simple nod and a towards both the prince and the the knight, turned to the street on her right, and immediately plunged through the crowds of people surrounding the area.

There was no way Chrom or Frederick would be able to know where she's headed now, if they ever thought of following her for no discernible reason. Hopefully their memory of her would fade soon enough.

* * *

It was when she finally returned to her room with a notebook full of sketches that Rowan immediately made a decision. That she was going to start looking for her target tonight. And not a night later.

After today, she realized that he sooner she got this done, the sooner she could put this behind her.

Swallowing down her reservations and stripping off her dress, the white-haired girl proceeded to don her light armor and her traveling cloak.

* * *

She was right all along. There _were_ still some disreputable establishments to be found even in a city like this. All it took was knowing where best to look—or who to tail.

Rowan, after being led by an unaware mercenary through the silent streets, swaggered into the not-too-shabby-looking tavern with her cloak's hood shadowing her face and the rest of the material covering her body. She'd made sure she carried herself in a way that made anyone reconsider approaching her. And because most of the men seated by the tables to her right merely gave her one glance before returning to their drinks, their drug deals, or their gambling sessions, she seemed to have succeeded. Maybe their ignoring her also had something to do with the way her eyes glinted dangerously in the dark, too. Like a tiger ready to pounce at the first person to provoke her.

And really, the tavern _wasn't_ all that shabby. It was a simple two-level structure built of straw and stone, with clean, wooden floors and walls that only had the tiniest splotches of dirt. Or blood.

The sixteen-year-old seated herself on the stool by the counter, catching the attention of the scarred, rough-looking bartender. Her heart gave a leap when she remembered how she was biting far more than she could chew right now, but she pushed the feeling deep, deep down before it could take hold. Rowan nodded at the heavyset man who definitely had seen his fair share of fights before settling down to a job like this.

"What'll you have?" The bartender asked in a gravelly voice.

"Answers." Rowan said simply, and procured bag a containing at least a thousand Gold and placed it on the surface. All the while, she meaningfully stared at the man and hoped he got her message. In a louder voice, she said, "A bottle of mead will do me fine."

She felt the pressure on her lighten just a bit. _Good, keep your attention to yourselves, gentlemen, because this doesn't concern you_.

The man grunted before turning away to fulfill her request. When he returned and placed the bottle right beside the bag of coins, Rowan pretended to take a special interest in her new drink, grabbing it and taking a swig.

By the time she placed the bottle back on the bar, the bag was gone.

"Alright. Ask." The man said.

"I don't suppose you've seen this man around? Word on the street is, you know a hell lot of people." Rowan showed him the folded parchment that contained the sketch of her target.

The man snorted in disbelief, glancing at the knife holstered on her exposed arm. "So I do. But what's this guy done to warrant the interest of an assassin?"

"Hey. _I_ ask the questions here." A small glare, to remind who was in charge for the moment. And who just paid him one-fifth of her allowance.

To Rowan's disappointment and embarrassment, the man wasn't all that intimidated. "That's fine and dandy, girlie, but the man you're after? _He_ could make a guy like me look like a Grimleal cultist. I mean, I'm no saint myself, but—"

"Fine, go on. Elaborate," Rowan growled, subtly gesturing to her weapon. Thankfully, her unspoken threat worked, and the bartender regarded her a little more seriously this time.

"Alright, alright. So, this man? Well, no one's known when he came to Ylisstol, exactly. It ain't difficult to learn he's from Plegia with that accent of his, but he sure as hell broke all the Plegian stereotypes we Ylissean folks knew. If he kept to himself like most Plegian emigrants we've got here, we wouldn't have noticed him in the first place." The bartender explained.

Rowan raised an eyebrow at this, but obviously the reaction was barely seen beneath the hood. "I see. And?"

The man shrugged. "And he could give Naga's kindness a run for her money. Ever since he moved here, the man's been a flurry of activity. He's been seen helping some of the beggars loitering the streets, had once drove off a couple thugs pestering some poor bastard who couldn't pay his debts, even caught a thief once… the list goes on and on. He could cast some pretty mean spells, too, so we've pretty much learned not to pester him about where he's come from and why he's here." He shuddered at some past memory. "Frankly? I'm surprised that someone even wants him dead. Guy's too good to die, if you ask me."

She didn't think she'd end up mentally using this line again, but she couldn't help but go, _Well. That complicated things_.

"I wasn't asking for _your_ opinion, but fine. I get it. I'll hear him out." Rowan said in a tone that implied she was simply humoring the man. She actually felt rotten for doing this, if the awful feeling in her chest were of any indication, but a facade was a facade. She hoped she wasn't about to do something she would regret forever. Maybe she _would_ hear her target out.

"That's good." The man said, nodding.

"So, where do I find him?"

"He lives in this small house by the edge of the city. Northern side. If you reach the foot of the mountain leading up to the Ylisstol castle, you've gone too far."

"Outstanding. And I trust that you'll pretend this never happened? And that no one, _no one_ , talks about this once I'm gone." The promise of her wrath reflected on her eyes should the opposite thing occur. And this time, she meant it. "Because, really, _sir_. The toys I have on me are not for show."

The shadows of her hood hid the small smile on Rowan's face as she successfully cowed the bartender this time. "R-right. You didn't come here."

"Good." Rowan stood up from the stool. She noticed a few stares being sent her way, but she ignored them."Very good. By the way, the mead was great."

And she left in the same manner she'd entered.

* * *

She exited the tavern with her heart threatening to burst from her chest, and after being certain that the darkness of the night and the shadows of the surrounding buildings hid her well, she let out a long, quiet sigh. Her shoulders drooped, her posture relaxed, and for a moment she thought that she might even want to cry in relief or in horror. Horror, because she hardly recognized herself back there.

 _Never again,_ she thought, her shuddering intake of breath the only indication of her current emotion. _But that_ _'s most likely impossible, isn't it?_

After she'd ensured that she was emotionally stable enough to move on and sleep the night away without waking up to her usual nightmares, she started making her way back to the inn.

…Well, that _was_ the plan until she found her way blocked. The darkness around her almost made it hard to make out the silhouette. Almost. Rowan stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms.

She stared at the obstacle.

The obstacle stared back.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Rowan softly broke the silence between them.

The woman, her _mother_ , laughed quietly, but there was no mirth to it.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised either."

* * *

 _Everything_ , thought Aversa, _seems to be going smoothly_.

Rowan was gone on her mission to Ylisstol, out to fulfill King Gangrel's task of eliminating the person who threatened his position on the court. Validar's daughter had been given a month to finish it, but Aversa could always convince His Highness to extend the deadline should the girl have troubles fulfilling it. Honestly, it wouldn't be surprising if the little Fellblood had a moral conflict; Rowan, though pleasant her company was, didn't seem to have inherited the kind of ruthlessness that Master Validar had. Aversa was almost certain that Rowan _would_ hesitate at the last moment—just like the way she did so during the coronation incident.

Oh, a part of her did consider the girl a friend. Gods know Rowan needed one, the poor darling, what with that lost look in her eyes when she thought no one was looking. But oftentimes, Aversa's responsibilities had to be put above any sort of friendships—she had a life debt to pay. So if Rowan had to be manipulated into doing what her father wanted her to do, which in this case was to be one of his plants within the Plegian court and help drive the rift between Ylisse and Plegia even wider, she didn't really have a choice but to make sure that Master achieved what he wanted to achieve. Besides, better for the girl to be of use to Validar rather than ending up cast aside like a worn-out toy. It's not like _she_ was the one doing most of the legwork, anyway.

Suddenly, Aversa felt glad to have gotten this brief reprieve from her tasks.

These days, things seemed to happen like clockwork: play adviser to the king and subtly pull in more Grima followers as a part of Master's grand plan; ensure that Gangrel nurtures his hatred for Ylisse, for the things its people had done to Plegia; continually convince the king, should he question her "inquisitions" again, that the reason why his people needed to turn to Grima was to help maintain every Plegian's sense of identity as Ylisse continually tries again and again to take everything from them; and then, of course, she was tasked with eliminating all that sought to change the direction the king was going.

Rowan was definitely lucky to be in Ylisstol right now.

"Milady Aversa," a woman suddenly called to her, meekly and a tad fearfully. Aversa's thoughts were cut short.

When she turned to face the servant girl, sneer in place, she realized that this woman was the same person whom she'd found hovering nearby Rowan's room the other day. And the days before that. Petite frame, mousy brown hair, dress sown from cheap materials—how pitifully plain.

"Oh, my, I didn't think anyone would seek my attention today," Aversa said coyly, but she was aware that in this situation, she was more like the cat ready to pounce at the mouse.

The girl made a pathetic attempt to meet her eyes. In fact, it was as if she was expecting a knife to the chest for the interruption. While that could be easily settled, this place didn't really need to reduce its inhabitants.

"I-I don't suppose you've seen Lady Rowan around? She hasn't returned for days now." The servant had a stammer, too. How wonders never cease.

"She's out on a business trip," Aversa replied, placing a hand on her waist. "Pray tell, why do you need to see her?"

"Oh, you see—"

"No, don't even try to lie with me, darling. I've done that so often, I know what tells to look out for. I'd rather you didn't make me mad; such an expression ill suits me," she interjected before the servant could say anything. Her eyes glinted dangerously. "Now, really, what's the _real_ reason?"

Well, well, well. The servant actually had the nerve to keep her mouth shut. She didn't know whether to admire that burst of bravery or to be irritated at the delay. Aversa _tsk_ 'ed before summoning a ball of dark energy atop her hand. A silent threat.

"I think you'd rather reconsider. We wouldn't want a mess here, don't we?" She then said.

The servant went pale as the implication sunk in. With shaking hands, she reached for her apron's pocket and held out a folded piece of paper. Aversa cancelled her spell, reached out to grab the paper and glanced over the contents. She realized it was a message, and a cryptic one at that:

 _We meet in the inn nearest where we last met._

 _\- S._

Interesting. Very interesting.

Aversa looked up at the servant, who was at a loss of what to do and couldn't visibly stand still. She smiled her feline smile. "Now, was that really so hard?"

"N-no, milady."

Her smile grew wider, and gods, it was a predatory one. "Well, then go on. Run along. I'll handle this."

"But I—"

"You'll not want to finish that if you want to live, girl."

"I—yes. Of course." The servant girl bowed respectfully before taking her leave. She was definitely eager to get out of her sight.

When the silly girl was completely gone, Aversa looked at the paper again. She didn't know whether to be disappointed or to be amused. "Rowan, Rowan, Rowan. It appears that you have a naughty side to you, after all."

Master Validar will love to hear of this.

 _Nothing personal_ , Aversa thought as she immediately headed towards her master's office. _I_ _'m perfectly fine with you hiding a secret, but you really should have done a better job of covering your tracks._

* * *

A/N: I swear I feel like I'm on a roll here. Or maybe that's just because I already have a general outline of this chapter and the next two. Also, yes, I know, the accident was predictable, and I am not ashamed. Do note that no pairings are set in stone just yet, though; what happened in this chapter was just me having a bit of fun. xD I've proofread this to the best of my ability, so if there's still something off about this chapter, feel free to tell me. I am not perfect. If all goes to plan, I'll be able to hit things off soon. XD I swear, I need to learn how to pace better.

Onwards to the anonymous review replies:

 _Battle Mistress: I'm guessing you guessed correctly on this one? Lol. :P_

 _Guest: Well, unfortunately, I ultimately decided on Chrom. I dunno, the story took a life of its own for that one. XD_

 **As usual, thanks for the reviews, faves, and follows! I always enjoy hearing from you guys. See ya next chapter.**


End file.
